The Zombie Survival Guide
by Zombie Killing 101
Summary: In order to keep my sanity, I am writing a survival guide.  And it's not just about surviving the zombie apocalypse, but also other people you might come across.  Like a redneck with a crossbow.  Daryl/OC
1. The Dead Now Walk

**A/N: Well, here's my first attempt at a fan fiction. Sorry if it sucks! I don't own The Walking Dead, because if I did, it would be so messed up you'd think it was South Park (which I don't own either) nor do I own any of the songs that pop up anywhere in the story. I do own Scarlett however!**

The Zombie Survival Guide

1. If You Want To Get Out Alive, Run For Your Life

_Hello, my name is Scarlett. I'm an unlikely survivor of the zombie apocalypse. To keep my sanity, I'm writing a zombie survival guide, since most people would need it. _

_In order to survive in this hell, you need to be one of the three things:_

_1. A cop of some sort_

_2. A person who has played CoD their entire life_

_3. A redneck_

_If you aren't one of the following, then find a blunt object and learn how to use it. Preferably a baseball bat or something heavy and made of metal. If you do however find a gun, then please, do not shoot at everything that moves. Unless you somehow have a silencer, then zombies are going to hear the blast. _

_If you have nowhere better to go, then go to southern Indiana. That's where I'm headed. I could use the company. _

_Well, this is the first of many survival guides. If you happen to find any more, then good job at surviving this far. _

_Godspeed, Scarlett_

I tore the sheet of paper out of my green spiral bound notebook and nailed it to a wooden telephone pole with an arrow. I wrote it in orange ink, so somebody should notice it. And yes, I know that was a total waste of an arrow, but hey, I don't have any nails so I had to improvise.

Picking up my bow, I started to walk down the street. Yes, I was killing zombies with bows and arrows. It's quiet and effective. Plus, I really don't like guns. _Plus,_I was on the archery team for a reason.

Atlanta was the new definition of hell. The city was pretty much burned to the ground and zombies were pretty much everywhere. It's crazy, I swear. This is how I survived: I locked myself in a closet for about two days. After that, I found the nearest weaponry shop, grabbed a bow and like three hundred arrows, a survival knife, and booked it out of there.

So here I am now, looting whatever food and drink I can find, and getting about six hours of sleep a day. If zombies don't kill me, then malnourishment sure as hell will.

I am so alone. I haven't used my voice in forever. I wonder if it's still there. Hopefully I'll still have my voice when I talk to other survivors!

...Who the hell am I kidding there are no survivors. Everyone's dead, literally and figuratively. There's no point in trying to stay alive.

I slapped myself.

'Listen to yourself! Stay optimistic damn it!' my inner voice yelled.

While I was having this internal conflict, I failed to notice the growing crowd of zombies approaching me.

\/\/ /-\ |_ |/_ | |\| (_-, ::: |) /= /-\ |)

"Look at all of those Walkers!" Glenn announced, hiding behind a busted up truck. He was pointing to a group of growing Walkers, obviously going after something.

"We better be gettin' the hell outta here," Rick said, holding onto his police hat.

"Is that…a girl?" Glenn questioned, looking at a figure that wasn't blood soaked or moaning.

"Holy shit, it is," Rick muttered. The main question was: how did the girl not notice all of the Walkers behind her?

After a few moments of contemplation, the imaginary light bulb went off above Rick's head. "I have an idea," he announced.

\/\/ /-\ |_ |/_ | |\| (_-, ::: |) /= /-\ |)

'But there are no survivors!' I argued with myself. Look what I've been reduced to. Arguing with myself. If the world ever comes to, I'll be put in an insane asylum for sure.

A loud whistle broke me from my thoughts. A…human…whistle. I'm not alone? Looking for the source of the sound, I noticed the growing group of zombies behind me. How did I not see them?

"Shit," I grumbled. I pulled out an arrow from the pouch on my back, nocked it on the bowstring, pulled back the 70 pounds of resistance, and aimed for the nearest zombie. I released the string, and the arrow was propelled forward, going straight through a zombie's eye. I pulled another arrow, nocked it, and ran. I pulled back the string, pivoted around, and released. The arrow struck a zombie in the forehead.

Nocking another arrow, I turned and let go of the string. It went through a zombie's neck. Well, that one's not dead. I growled as I loaded another arrow. I fired, and I didn't bother to see where it hit.

I pulled another arrow, and continued to run. Damn these things were persistent. Attaching the arrow to the string, I jerked the string back, and fired at a zombie that somehow ended up in front of me. It went right between its eyes. As I ran past the now-dead undead, I yanked the arrow out of its brain, and loaded it back into my bow.

So many zombies, so little arrows.

\/\/ /-\ |_ |/_ | |\| (_-, ::: |) /= /-\ |)

"She's doin' pretty good with that bow," Rick commented. The group was waiting up ahead for the girl who was holding her own against the mob of Walkers.

"Here she comes," T-Dog said.

Before she could ran past the group of men, T-Dog grabbed her arm, and pulled her into the alleyway. She screamed, a natural reaction, but then noticed that they were human.

"We're here to help," Rick told her.

\/\/ /-\ |_ |/_ | |\| (_-, ::: |) /= /-\ |)

Several things were going on through my head right now. Things such as: holy shit other people, holy shit I'm about to get eaten, and rape.

The black man released my arm, and out of instinct, I drew my bow, and pointed to the policeman who just spoke to me.

"Put it down," he told me calmly.

My grip tightened on the curve of my bow. They did just save me from the zombies, but the group was also composed of _just_ guys. One can only guess the outcome.

I'm pretty sure that the men saw that I wasn't going to put my bow down. I heard a _click_ and my eyes wandered off to my left. There was a crossbow aimed right at my head.

At my momentary distraction, the policeman grabbed the curve of my bow, and pushed it in a different direction. The suddenness of the action made me release the grip of the string, and the arrow went flying into a car door.

In the same moment, the weapon was taken from me and I was pinned to the ground. And here's my thoughts on that: _Rape,__rape,__rape,__rape,__rape,__shit__rape,__fuck,__fuck,__fuck,__shit__fuck__piss,__rape,__rape,__rape,__damn__it__all,__fuck,__feed__me__to__zombies,__shit,__fuck,__rape!_

"Get off of me!" I screamed. I don't care if I attracted zombies; I really wasn't in the mood to be raped.

"We aren't going to hurt you," Rosco reassured me. Yeah, policeman is now Rosco. You know, from the Dukes of Hazzard. Anyway, continuing on.

I struggled underneath Rosco. Damn this guy was strong.

"I'm going to let you up. We promise we aren't going to hurt you. We just want to help. Will you please calm down?" Rosco reasoned.

"Whatever," I growled in response. True to his word, Rosco let me up. I didn't attack him and the guys in the group didn't attack me.

I looked around for my bow, and the guy with the crossbow had it slung over his shoulder.

"Can I have my bow back?" I asked. I held out my hand for it, but he shook his head no.

"Don't want you shootin' us," he answered.

I let out an airy laugh that held no humor. Apparently he didn't notice my duffle bag full of arrows. I could just say, _stab_ him.

Speaking of my duffle bag, _where__in__the__bloody__fucking__hell__is__it?_ Oh some Asian dude was going through it. _What__the__fuck?_

"It's full of arrows. You aren't going to find anything else," I told him. I took it from him, zipped it back up, and threw it over my shoulder.

"Why arrows?" the black man asked.

"They're reusable. Unlike guns, you can pull an arrow out of a zombie and use it again but with a bullet, that doesn't really work out too well," I answered. Well that's one reason why anyway.

"We didn't catch your name," Rosco said.

"Scarlett," I responded.

"It's nice to meet you, Scarlett. I'm Rick, that's T-Dog, Glenn, and he's Daryl," he told me, pointing to each in turn.

"Ditto," I replied.

"I'm just going to make this quick. Would you like to join our camp? There's other survivors living there, and the more people we have, the higher our chances at survival," Rick (fuck it, I'm calling him Rosco), explained.

"Why not?" I shrugged.

"Now let's get the hell outta here," Rosco told the group.

We made a mad dash out of the alleyway (well for me it was more like a jog) and we were apparently headed for a car or something. We turned a final corner to find nothing.

I tuned out their conversation. If we were going to _walk_ to camp, I'm going to be pissed. Very, very pissed.

I was brought back to reality by Glenn, who nudged my arm. Shit, we're walking. More like running. _Fuck__that._

\/\/ /-\ |_ |/_ | |\| (_-, ::: |) /= /-\ |)

So, Rosco had a bad feeling about the camp. It turns out he was right. There was a gunshot, and a scream, and the camp was being overrun by zombies. Just another day in the life of Scarlett.

I took my flatbow back from Daryl, and shoved about thirty arrows into my quiver, nocked an arrow, and shot a 'Walker' as Rosco called them. I nocked another, and released the string. The arrow flew forward, going straight through a zombie's head, and struck the one behind it in the eye. Am I good? I'm good.

"I. Hate. These. Things!" I mumbled, shooting a Walker in the cheek. They're blood soaked, and smell like rotting flesh. Along with the grotesque faces and half-eaten limbs, they make me want to puke.

Twenty-two arrows later, all of the Walkers were finally dead. I was busy pulling my arrows out of their heads while the rest of camp was burning zombie bodies. Apparently, some people from camp were killed. Well, that's not my problem.

Glenn came up to me while I was trying to yank an arrow out of a zombie's eye socket. The thing was stuck in there pretty good. I gave him a quick sideways glance before I went back to arrow retrieving.

"Hey…thanks for helping," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"It was a humane thing to do," I replied. I jerked on the arrow again, but it broke in half. I half-screamed, half-mumbled a loud _fuck_ before kicking the deceased body in the head.

"You're a really good shot. I mean, with your bow and all," the Korean commented.

"Thanks," I responded, going on to the next body.

"Might be better than Daryl. But don't tell him I said that."

I glanced up with him and smirked. "Are you scared of him?"

"Kinda," he answered.

"Don't be. Daryl probably wasn't loved as a child," I smiled, putting a hand on his shoulder. I hated being short. I really did. Even for an Asian, Glenn was taller than me. Sad face.

Glenn smiled, and then went back to body burning. I went back to pulling-arrows-out-of-zombie-heads. Let me tell you how fun it is. It's like watching paint dry. Or cutting grass with scissors one blade at a time.

I wasn't properly introduced to the camp, so some just stared at me but didn't question why I was there. I didn't really feel like going up to them and being like, "Hey I'm Scarlett. I was brought here to see your camp getting overrun by zombie fucks. Mind if I stay for awhile?" Yeah, no.

I walked around camp looking for any arrows that I might've missed. I found one lodged in a Walker's throat, and went over to retrieve it. I put my foot on its chest, and reached down to rip out the arrow. There's just one tiny thing I missed. It wasn't in its head.

It was still alive.

The zombie moaned and grabbed for me. I let out a short scream, and jumped off of the thing, but it grabbed my ankle. I fell to the ground, and the Walker climbed on top of me. It bent its head down and tried to bite my neck, but I held it back.

Screaming again, I tried to kick the Walker off. It didn't budge. The arrow was still in its throat. I reached for it, and began to pry it out, but since I was only using one arm to hold the zombie back, it tried to gnaw at my arm.

"Get the hell off of me!" I screamed. I freed the arrow, and stabbed the Walker right in the temple. It moaned before falling on top of me. I crawled out from under it and repeatedly stabbed it with the same arrow.

"Motherfucker!" I yelled, "Stay fucking dead!"

Alright, so I was on the verge of crying. Zombie brain matter and blood was all over my arms, chest, neck, and face. I was almost bit. Hell, I was almost _eaten. _

Panting, I shoved the arrow back into the zombie's mutilated skull. The thing could stay there for all I care now. Can't believe I was almost eaten over an arrow.

"Scarlett, are you alright?" T-Dog asked, kneeling beside me. Where the fuck were you three minutes ago?

"I'm fucking perfect. Just fucking perfect," I growled. I stood, and stomped on the arrow that was sticking out of the Walker's head.

\/\/ /-\ |_ |/_ | |\| (_-, ::: |) /= /-\ |)

T-Dog watched the young girl storm off into the woods.

"What happened?" Rick asked, motioning towards Scarlett.

"I guess she almost got bit," T-Dog answered.

"That explains the screaming," Rick mused.

\/\/ /-\ |_ |/_ | |\| (_-, ::: |) /= /-\ |)

'If someone else was screaming their fucking head off, somebody would come running for them. But not me. Oh no, I'm not important at all. I'm expendable. Just somebody that knows how shoot and how to kill a zombie quietly. I'm probably going to be a fucking babysitter; protecting those goddamn kids. Fucking useless, that's what they are. I can survive better on my own. Even though the world's gone to shit, men think they can fucking boss me around. Fuck that. I can pull my own weight. I can protect myself. I don't need to help anybody. Nobody bothered helping me,' I thought angrily.

I pushed a tree branch away from my face and continued stomping on through the woods. That's bullshit. Nobody came to help me until _after_ I was almost eaten alive.

Fuck that camp. Fuck the people in the camp. Fuck zombies. Fuck the world. And fuck me up the ass with a fucking broomstick! Fuck.

"Motherfuckers should all get eaten," I mumbled, kicking a tree. As I see it, I'm just somebody to distract zombies while they all run away like pussies.

"Are you jus' gunn' stand there an' wait to be eaten or do you wanna come back to camp?"

The sound of the voice made me jump. I pulled my knife and prepared to stab something. Oh, it's just Daryl.

"Fuck that camp," I grumbled.

"I don't like 'em either fer leavin' my brother handcuffed to a roof," Daryl said. Wait, what?

"He's a strong sumbitch. Sawed 'is own hand off," he continued.

"I'm…sorry," I muttered, not knowing what else to say.

"I can understand that yer mad since no one came to help ya when you almost got eaten."

"I'm pissed the fuck off!" I yelled, stabbing a tree with my knife just at the thought.

"They fuck up a lot. But everyone does," Daryl told me. For a redneck, he makes some pretty great points.

"If I go back, I might end up killing one of them," I sighed, pulling my knife out of the poor tree I pierced.

"'S fine. Might deserve it anyway," Daryl responded. I let out a small laugh.

"A'ight, let's head back then," I smiled. I went back the same direction I came from, with Daryl following me. Before I even made my tenth step, Daryl grabbed my arm and pulled me back. A Walker emerged from the trees.

Daryl shot it with his crossbow before it could come any closer. Ew. The arrow went right through its forehead and the tip came out the back of its cranium. Double ew.

The redneck pulled the arrow from the zombie's head, and loaded it back into his crossbow. I should think about getting one of those things.

\/\/ /-\ |_ |/_ | |\| (_-, ::: |) /= /-\ |)

After the incredibly long walk back, I realized just how far into the woods I went. And why did Daryl come after me? Rosco probably told him to.

So, the bodies were all burned and everyone was packing up. We're leaving? Awesome. Not really.

"Hey, Glenn! The fuck's goin' on?" I asked the Asian. He turned at the sound of my voice.

"After the geeks invaded, Rick and Shane decided to move on," he explained. Who the fuck is Shane? Probably the other policeman.

"Where are we headed?" I pressed on.

"The CDC," he answered.

The Center for Disease Control? Hm, seems logical enough. I nodded, and went to go find Rosco.

He was talking to a woman who I took to be his wife. I really need to start learning names here. She nodded at what he was saying, and then walked off.

"Hey Rosco!" I called. He didn't react. Oh right, Rick. I rolled my eyes. "Rick!"

"Yeah Scarlett?" he asked.

"Are we seriously leaving?"

"Yeah. It's not safe here anymore."

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. So much to contemplate over.

"Sorry about letting you almost get eaten by a Walker," Rosco said.

"I'm still alive, so don't worry about it," I replied.

"Oh, and did you call me Rosco?" he smiled.

"Yeah. You know, from the Dukes of Hazzard?" I laughed.

He just shook his head with an amused grin. "Can you go find Carl?" he asked, going back to whatever he was doing.

"Carl?"

"My son. Short, dark-ish hair, blue eyes," Rosco described.

"I'll try," was my answer. Yep, I'm a fucking babysitter. Great.

I found Carl a few minutes later sitting on a rock, talking to a young girl. I approached quietly, trying not to disturb their conversation.

"Carl?" I asked. The boy turned to me, and it was easy to tell he was wary of me asking for him. Well, he didn't know me, at all, so I don't blame him.

"Who're you?" he asked.

"Scarlett. Your dad dragged me along from Atlanta. And speaking of your dad, he wants to see you," I responded.

"Oh, okay," he said. He leapt off of the rock, and ran in the direction I came from.

"I like your hair. Is it naturally that red?" the little girl spoke up.

"Thanks," I laughed, "And yeah, it is. That's why my parents named me Scarlett."

"Pretty name. I'm Sophia."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," I replied.

She smiled. Her mom, I guess, was calling her name, so she ran off to her. Even though the world's gone to shit, the kids still were obedient. Inspiring.

I stood by and watched the camp pack up. I really had nothing but my duffle bag full of arrows, my bow, and my backpack that had my clothes and other things stuffed in it. I didn't have a tent, I didn't have a car, and I didn't have anything that was cumbersome.

Glancing down to make sure my knife was with me, my attention was drawn to the tattoo on my hand. _Aeternus._ Forever. It was written in calligraphy down half of my index finger and down to my thumb. I felt tears form in my eyes, but wiped them away.

My best friend had _semper_written in the same spot but on the opposite hand. Mine was on the right; hers on the left. We were going to be friends _forever_ and _always_. I wonder if she's still alive.

I glanced at my left arm; there was a Celtic cross, almost exactly like the one on the back of my neck. The only exception was that the one on the back of my neck had _Angelus__Custos__Meus_ on it. _My__Guardian__Angel. _

Tears ran down my cheeks. "Fuck," I muttered, using the back of my hand to wipe them away. It's funny how a simple phrase can bring up such a sad memory.

"Sumthin' wrong?"

I jumped at the sound of Daryl's voice.

"Shit, you scared me," I whispered.

"Are you…cryin'?" he asked, leaning in closer to see my bloodshot eyes.

"N-no, I just have something in my eye. Like dirt, or a twig, or a branch, or something," I mumbled, rubbing my eyes with my palms.

"What's _aeternus_ mean?"

Just hearing the word made more tears spring up. "Nothing," I mumbled before running off.

\/\/ /-\ |_ |/_ | |\| (_-, ::: |) /= /-\ |)

**Well, there's chapter one of the _Zombie__Survival__Guide_! Hit the little review button and type in something please :D I don't care if it says pie; I'd just like some feedback. Flames are welcomed, hell they're encouraged! And sorry for all of the cursing, but if it were you in the zombie apocalypse, would you really be saying crap, screw you, darn, or gosh? Nah, didn't think so.**


	2. Wal Mart Raid

**A/N: Here is chapter two! So excited! I know you people probably don't care, but my best friend's last name is Dixon! I was very surprised. As always, I didn't own The Walking Dead (though I wish I did) nor any of the songs that pop up! I only own Scarlett.**

The Zombie Survival Guide

2. When This Began, I Had Nothing to Say and I'd Get Lost In the Nothingness Inside of Me

_It's Scarlett again! Here is the second guide to survival. _

_To start off with, find other survivors! There is strength in numbers, and you need those numbers! Wouldn't it be nice to know someone was watching your back as your hacking through a mob of zombies? So yeah, find people!_

_If you do find somebody, make sure they aren't emotionally unstable or a cannibal. If you do get stuck with one of the following, then just straight up kill the latter. Getting eaten by an undead fuck is better than getting eaten by a living fuck. _

_Well, I guess I'm not heading to Indiana anymore. This time, I'm going to the CDC. It's logical. Somebody should be there and well, hopefully they're developing a cure. _

_I __know __you __probably __don__'__t __care, __but __I __got __dragged __into __a __group __of __people __that __includes __police __officers __and_ _a __redneck! __Looks __like __Scarlett __hit __the __jackpot __:)_

_Sorry this is short, but I'm still working on surviving myself._

_Godspeed, Scarlett_

Like always, I tore the paper out, attached it to an arrow, and nailed it to a telephone pole. In secret of course. Shane, Glenn, Daryl, and I made an emergency trip to Atlanta to grab some last minute supplies. I begged to go just to post my new guide.

After the whole tattoo thing last night, Daryl sort of half refused to talk to me. Then again, he really didn't talk to anyone. He only responded if someone talked to him first, or if there was an argument. Other than that, he's one quiet cookie.

A really adorable quiet cookie.

I did not just think that.

I blame the fact that I'm a woman. Yeah, let's go with that. I'm a little ways past my teen years, but I can still find men attractive. Right? Right.

'Come to think of it, I'll be turning twenty-three in a week,' I thought. What's the point of a birthday in a world infested with zombies? What'll my gift be? Five hundred zombies to kill with only five arrows? Knowing my luck, that'll probably happen.

"Hey Scarlett! Hurry up!" Shane barked. I rolled my eyes. I really didn't like Shane. He acts like a god and thinks we'll serve him as a god. As you should know by now, that sure as hell isn't happening.

"Coming, your high-assness," I mumbled. I increased my pace to a jog to catch up with the three men. If ever given the chance, I would shoot Shane. He just gives off the whole 'do what I say or I'll kill you if we're ever alone.'

"Why'd you even wanna come anyway?" Shane asked when I caught up.

"Something to do," I replied. I shot a quick glance at him, and he honestly reminded me of a monkey. Rolling my eyes, I hurried my pace to catch up with Daryl.

My grip tightened on my bow when I approached. His crossbow was in a relaxed position, but ready to quickly shoot a Walker if needed. And as always, he was in jeans and a flannel shirt that had no sleeves.

"Hey," I said when I was right beside him.

"Be quiet. Walkers 're everywhere," he growled. Okay, then.

"Sorry," I whispered. I slowed my pace and just walked outside of the triangle that the guys made. In all honestly, right now, Glenn was the only person I could stand.

To keep myself entertained, I'd flex the hand around the grip of the bow, then relax the muscles. The bow would make an interesting sound that made the boys stop for a few seconds and then continue onwards.

"Here we are," Glenn announced.

"Wal-Mart? You can't be serious," I gawked. I honestly hated Wal-Mart. It was just so, bland. So plain.

"Sorry that it doesn't fit your current lifestyle," Shane said, marching up to the front doors. Dick.

I clenched my jaw so that I wouldn't say anything that would make him aim his shotgun at me. I wasn't a city person. I was more of a country person. I liked the outdoors. Which is probably why I was able to survive this long.

"Come on," Glenn said, putting a hand on my shoulder. The muscle flexed from the touch, but I nodded, jaw still clenched.

We were total ninja mode inside. Our footsteps were almost inaudible. Shane and Glenn were grabbing different types of food and other supplies like drugs and stuff like that that we needed. Daryl and I were being badasses, guarding the two with our silent weapons.

"This is pretty much Walker-free," I mused. I got a sharp glance from the redneck. Oh right. No talking.

So my previous statement was wrong. Before I had the chance to roll my eyes, a very, very, very large zombie made its way into the aisle we were in. That's my luck! Anyways, the thing was very...thick. And tall. But one head-shot and it'd be done for.

I pulled the already-nocked arrow back, and aimed for its head; right between the eyes. I loosed the arrow, and it hurtled forward. Then the impossible happened: the Walker _dodged_ it.

"What the fuck?" I thought aloud. It sidestepped. I can't believe it. My arrow was now somewhere in the book section. Great.

The grotesque figure smiled (ew) and charged for us. I pulled another arrow from my quiver, nocked it, and let it fly. It grazed its shoulder, but the Walker didn't stop.

"Shit, run!" Shane yelled. Way to be quiet, Shane! But I did as I was commanded. Mainly because I didn't want to be run over by this thing and/or eaten.

Nocking another arrow, I aimed and fired. It struck the Walker in pretty much the same place as the last one.

"Fuck," I growled.

I nocked another arrow. Come to think of it, I didn't bring that many arrows. Fuck. I pulled the string back, but a bolt struck it in the head. Hm, I didn't fire that.

"Yer a terrible shot," Daryl commented, pulling his own arrow out of the zombie's head. I held back a growl as I fetched the two arrows stuck in its shoulder.

"It's a bow. What do you expect?" I replied, putting the two bloodied arrows back into my quiver.

"You to actually hit sumthin'," he retorted. Damn that redneck.

Ignoring the urge to shoot him, I hunted for Glenn and Shane, who were already at the entrance. Those guys can really haul ass.

"Thanks for leaving!" I yelled.

"You're welcome," Shane said. This makes him much more of a dick. How dare he leave a damsel in distress! Well, I'm not exactly a damsel, and I wasn't exactly in distress.

People really want to be shot today, now don't they? First there's Daryl, who insulted my archery skills. Now there's Shane, who is just a dick in general. And Glenn for being a witness to my bloody rampage.

"So, should we leave now?" Glenn asked. He sounds so innocent it's adorable.

Shane nodded. Well his rule is God, so Glenn opened the door oh-so-quietly (please note sarcasm). The doors screeched as loud as a burnout. So we pretty much attracted every Walker's attention on the street. Great.

"Good job!" I muttered. Only person who heard me was Daryl, since his sense of hearing was better than a dog's.

If we were going to get stuck in fucking Wal-Mart, I'm going to shoot myself in the face.

Turns out, we had to lock ourselves in the guys' bathroom. Can I take back the whole 'shoot myself in the face' thing? Please?

"How the fuck are we going to get out of here?" Shane thought aloud.

"You were the one who told us to come in here in the first place, so you come up with an escape plan!" I told him. I was sitting on an actually clean sink, a little disturbed by the fact that I was in the bathroom of the opposite gender.

Shane shot me a look that clearly said, "Shut the fuck up, Scarlett." I shrugged; it was his fault!

'They couldn't even consider trying to barricade the doors,' I mused.

Glenn was having an obvious panic attack while Daryl was just standing in the corner, cleaning an arrow. My bow was leaning on the wall and my quiver was right beside it. Shane was pacing back in forth in front of the urinals.

"How about one of us go out there and pull the fire alarm?" I said. It was a good idea. Though it might attract more Walkers...

"Can't risk it," Shane retorted.

Fuck you dude. Fuck. You.

"We need to get the Walkers away from the doors. I could draw their attention while you guys go back to the Jeep," I explained.

"You're not going to risk your life like that. We're all getting out. Together," Glenn intervened. Risking one life is better than risking four, hon.

"...We're never getting out of this," I groaned. I hit my head on the mirror behind me. There was a small rush of pain, but it was relief from this hell for a few moments.

"We're in a goddamn toy store, pretty much. Why can't we just set off all of them?" I muttered. The imaginary light bulbs went off in our heads.

"I've got a plan," Shane announced.

\/\/ /-\ |_ |/_ | |\| (_-, ::: |) /= /-\ |)

So the plan consisted of me being damn zombie bait. I hate you Shane. I really, really hate you. I loathe you with a fiery passion. Go fall in a hole and die.

I snuck out of the bathroom without attracting any attention surprisingly. I ran on the tips of my toes, hurrying myself to the electronics section. I was supposed to try to make the alarms go off. Since the power was limited and the batteries in these things most likely dead, I was pretty much a walking buffet.

"Come on damn things, work..." I mumbled. I was pressing every single button on every single alarm. There was like thirty set out so at least one had to work.

I was still all for the pull-alarm-and-run-like-hell plan. I even thought about doing it. But I really don't want buckshot in my ass.

As it turns out, none of the clocks worked. At all. That's just my luck. Every single button was pushed on every single alarm, yet it did absolutely nothing.

"Time for Plan B," I muttered. I hurried away from the alarms and headed for the toys section. End of the world or not, those annoying dolls and trucks would still go off. Kind of like how McDonald's can survive anything. I mean, it's McDonald's.

I swerved aisle through aisle, pressing every 'Press Me!' button possible. I was glad they actually worked. The most annoying things in the world survive yet something important doesn't. Irony.

"Plan B, successful. Time for Phase Two," I smirked.

\/\/ /-\ |_ |/_ | |\| (_-, ::: |) /= /-\ |)

"Where the hell is she?" Glenn mumbled. The bathroom door was barely open, and he watched as the Walkers were being attracted by some type of noise.

"If Scarlett isn't back here in three minutes, we're leaving," Shane reminded him.

"I know," Glenn replied.

The Korean pulled the door closed and sighed. He just wanted to get out of here and go back to camp. Where there are more people to associate with. Not a fucked-in-the-head policeman and a hick redneck.

"Wha's tha' sound?" Daryl asked to no one in particular. His face showed obvious confusion.

"It sounds like..." Glenn didn't get to finish his sentence. He was interrupted by the sound of cracking glass followed by the loudest _CRASH_ he has ever heard.

\/\/ /-\ |_ |/_ | |\| (_-, ::: |) /= /-\ |)

Okay, so here was Phase Two: I ran like hell out of the fire escape doors, found the Jeep, and drove through the front doors, taking out four Walkers in the process. It didn't work out the way it does in movies sadly.

"Where are you guys?" I asked myself in a sing-song voice. I was tapping my fingers on the steering wheel, and I was contemplating on honking the horn or not.

I'm pretty sure they were locked in the bathrooms in the front of the building. Then again, I have been wrong before.

"What the fuck? Are you fucking insane?"

There's Shane. Followed by Daryl and Glenn.

"Did you just figure that out?" I replied as Shane climbed in the passenger seat. Daryl and Glenn jumped in the backseat. That's when I kicked the Jeep into reverse and slammed the gas pedal to the floor. The tires screech on the linoleum floor, but it eventually caught traction and we were back into the parking lot.

Twisting the wheel hard to the right, the Jeep spun around, so that the back was facing the gaping hole in the store. I jerked it into drive and stomped on the pedal. We were out of that hell in a few seconds, the stuff we picked up was in the back along with my bow and quiver, and I was driving at dangerously high speeds!

"Pull over," Shane commanded.

"Why?" I asked, eyes not leaving the road ahead of me.

"Because I'm driving. Now pull the fuck over."

I didn't want to argue (since we all know we have to fucking worship Shane since he's rule is God), so I pulled over onto a not-so infested street, unbuckled my seat belt, and climbed over the console into the back with Daryl and Glenn.

"You can ride shotgun," I told the Korean. I find being in the front with Shane is quite like torture.

Glenn shrugged and climbed out then re-entered the passenger side. He buckled his seat belt (such a good boy) and Shane floored it. The RPM's maxed out, and I was thrown into the seat.

"Jesus, learn how to fucking drive!" I shouted at the law officer.

He didn't reply, which is a good thing. I grabbed the leather seat belt and strapped it over my body. If I was going to die, then it sure as hell wasn't going to be death by car.

"Why'd you drive through the doors?" Glenn asked from the front seat.

"I felt as though it was a good idea," I answered. The Jeep surprisingly survived the impact. There was a few scratches here and there,but all in all, she was in good shape.

"Fuckin' dumb tha's what it was," Daryl commented. I glared at the redneck for a few seconds. How dare he insult my skills, again?

"Well I'm sorry for saving your asses," I grumbled, crossing my arms over my chest. I noticed how dirty my skin actually was for the first time. It was covered in dry zombie matter and dirt. I'm jumping in the nearest lake as soon as possible.

Daryl shot me a sideways glance, but I noticed that his eyes lingered on my visible tattoos. I have a lot to be honest. Most of them are covered up, and about four can actually be seen on a normal day.

I bet he still wanted to know what aeternus meant. Well Daryl, that's a story for...never.

Deciding that I didn't want to really talk to anyone anymore, I gazed out the window. Nature was still the same. It was still beautiful. It was still peaceful.

I could feel the wave of emotion coming over me. Life really is a bitch. I was spared when everyone I loved died. All of my friends, my family, my boyfriend. They all were burned. My hometown was quarantined and burned to the ground, yet I managed to escape.

There were lucky people like Rosco: he had his family and his best friend. Daryl had his brother who was currently MIA. But at least someone in his family was alive.

I leaned my head on the window. It took a few seconds for the heat to connect to my head, and when it did, I jumped. Damn, that thing was fucking hot. Well, it is Georgia. The state where it's always hotter than Satan's crotch. And this was a black Jeep so that doesn't really help.

Wiping some sweat off of my forehead, I relaxed a bit. In all honesty, I was fucking tired. I slept for about two hours last night. In a tree. And now with all of this Wal-Mart bullshit, well I just wanted to sleep. Just close my eyes and never wake up. Or awaken to nothing.

Nothing. That's all I had when this began. I couldn't describe it. Hell didn't even come close. It really was natural selection to its fullest extent. Those who were fit to survive lived, while those who couldn't were picked off.

Damn you, Charles Darwin for predicting the future.

Before I knew it, my mental rant actually made me fall asleep. On Daryl.

**A/N: And here's chapter two! I'm trying to get more of Scarlett's back story into the story without making flashbacks. And yes, Wal-Mart sucks. Thus why the front doors were destroyed XD and some still have the lockable restroom doors! **

**Review please! The more reviews I get, the faster the update! :D **


	3. Karaoke and Murphy's Law

**A/N: Capitulo tres! Excitement! Anyways, I do not own The Walking Dead or any of the songs that pop up in here. Only own my bad-mouthed character, Scarlett! Oh, and the people who review, well, I might just throw you guys in here or something :) of course you might die but I gotta reward you somehow!**

3. The City Looks So Pretty, Do You Wanna Burn It With Me?

_Third guide. Here are some things to not do:_

_Travel with people who can never decide on what to do._

_Travel with people who think their rule is God._

_Associate with people are are paranoid freaks._

_Travel with people who have very bad family issues._

_Travel with people who have issues period._

_Threaten a guy who has a shotgun._

_Punch said person with shotgun._

_Sing while trying to hide from zombies._

_The list goes on. Let me tell you, I really worry about the people in our group. Their too emotionally connected. It's the end of the fucking world, you can't be serious about trying to keep your family together. A good fuck once in awhile is fine, but really, this isn't high school, I don't give a damn about your problems._

_Sorry for ranting. Well, the CDC plan is still in motion. Hope to see someone there. _

_Godspeed, Scarlett_

I kept the paper in my notebook, since I was currently in the RV. Dale was driving, Andrea was being the emotionally unstable bitch, Carl was talking with Sophia, and to put it simply, camp's gone to hell in a hand basket.

I made an attempt to learn names. I did learn a few, but I couldn't tell you them off of the top of my head.

Wondering what happened when I fell asleep on Daryl yesterday? Well, good thing I'm in a story-telling mood.

They let me sleep the entire time. I guess I was like completely knocked out, so Daryl (unwillingly) carried me to the camper and let me sleep in the 'master' bed. I'm glad he didn't try to kill me for sleeping on him. It's not my fault.

I received a total amount of 14 hours of sleep. That makes up for about two days of very little sleep. But I was completely refreshed, and surprisingly clean... I'll have to ask someone about that later.

Oh, and for 'payment' for letting me sleep on him for like an hour, Daryl took most of my arrows. That bastard. I didn't think a normal flatbow arrow would work on a crossbow, but like I said yesterday, I've been wrong before.

The supplies we liberated came in handy. Most of it was food, some clothes, and some cleanliness items. Which we severally needed.

"Did it hurt?" Carl asked Sophia, giant smirk on his face.

"Did what hurt?" Sophia answered with a question.

"When you fell from heaven, 'cause baby you're an angel," Carl replied. I almost choked on laughing. That was such a cheesy pick up line, but it was adorable when he did it.

"Hey Scarlett, come keep an old man some company," Dale called from the front. Ah, what the hell. Why not?

"What's up?" I asked, sitting in the passenger seat. I buckled my seat belt, and casually glanced at the older man.

"I was just wondering, what's your story?" Dale asked. My story?

"Well, I'm come from a small town in southern Indiana. If you think Daryl's bad, well, the people there are ten times worse. Which is why I know how to use a bow. Hunting town, pretty much.

I came to Georgia to visit my boyfriend's family. We had separate flights somehow, so I went on ahead and I was going to wait on him there. After that, everything went to shit.

When people weren't badly infected, my boyfriend called me. He told me that the town was... that the army was going to burn it down. It hurt me. A lot. He told me to be strong, and to survive. He told me that the only thing he wanted of me is to live. So that's what I'm doing. Living," I explained.

Dale looked at me. Sympathy was written all over his face. "That's horrible. I'm so sorry."

I shook my head. "There's no time to dwell on the past. You just gotta look towards the future."

Andrea snorted from the back. "What future?" she laughed. She's a crazy bitch, let me tell you.

I ignored her. Yes, I know her sister was turned into a Walker and she killed the poor girl herself, but that's not my problem. My hometown was burned down and you don't see me bitching about it. That's probably because I'd break down and cry if I did...

"You don't have to answer this if you don't feel comfortable, but why did they burn down your home?" Dale asked.

"They think that's where the disease started," I answered.

"Was it?" Dale pressed on.

"Nope," I replied, popping the 'p'.

"So, tell me more about yourself."

"Well, I'm twenty-two; about to turn twenty-three. My name's Scarlett Matthews. My red hair is natural. I majored in psychology and I also took an anatomy class. All of those college years were wasted on me becoming a bartender. I met my boyfriend in that bar, actually. I moved in with him. And that's pretty much it," I told him.

"You definitely don't look twenty-two. Maybe seventeen at most, but not twenty-two," he smiled. Yes, I look like a high school student. And I have no idea why.

I let out a small laugh. Even though the conversation we were having was a little personal, Dale made it seem like an everyday thing. I wonder if he was a therapist before.

"So, anything between you and Daryl?" he asked.

"Nope. He just carried me here 'cause I passed out in the Jeep," I replied.

"Shane and Glenn were also there. Why didn't they carry you?"

"Shane hates me and I doubt Glenn could. Besides, I kinda fell asleep on him," I felt a small, barely noticeable blush creep across my cheeks. Dale didn't notice, thank God.

"Shane hates everyone. Don't worry about it."

"I noticed," I mumbled.

"Tell me about your boyfriend," Dale said.

"Well, he was tall, blonde, and handsome. He had the brightest blue eyes, ever. Along with the six pack abs, and the total Hollister model look, he was perfect. I met him in the bar, like I said before. Well, some drunk started shit with him, and well, he got hit over the head with a beer bottle. I dragged his unconscious ass into the backroom and took care of him there. When he woke up, he asked if he was in heaven. And he was completely serious about it too," I explained.

"And you two started dating then?"

"We got to know each other pretty well. He asked me out three weeks later."

"And you two were together for how long?"

"Two years."

We were silent for awhile. I decided to break the silence.

"Being burned alive is the most painful thing someone can experience. The second is child birth," I told Dale.

He just nodded as he continued to drive. For once, he probably didn't have something comforting to say. I didn't need any comforting though. It's hard to be comfortable in this hell called Earth.

"How about some karaoke?" Sophia suggest from the back.

"Sure! Hey Scarlett, since you're new to the group, you start!" Carl exclaimed.

"Fine," I laughed. I took a deep breath and began to sing.

_And hey sweetie, _

_Well I need you here tonight_

_And I know that you don't want to be leaving me_

_Yeah you want it but I can't help it_

_I just feel complete when you're by my side_

_But I know you can't come home 'til they're singing_

_La, la la la, la la la_

_'Til everyone is singing_

_La, la la la, la la la_

I stopped the song way short. I even started in the middle. Mainly because this song reminded me of my boyfriend.

"That was awesome," Carl breathed. I smirked and held back a laugh.

"My turn!" Sophia announced.

_Just gonna stand there _

_And watch me burn_

_But that's alright because I like the way it hurts_

_Just gonna stand there_

_And hear my cry_

_But that's alright because I love the way you lie_

_I love the way you lie_

I don't want to hear about people burning!

Carl took over by singing Sweet Home Alabama. But every time Alabama popped up, he'd switch it to Georgia. It cracked up everyone in the RV. He was such a cute kid, honestly.

We continued karaoke for awhile. We sang everything from screamo to rap. We ended it when I finished Super Bass. They were pretty amazed at how I knew so many songs, and that I could rap, really fast.

"That was entertaining," Lori-I think that's her name-commented. She was holding back a laugh, but hell, everyone in the RV was.

"I try," I smiled.

Dale slammed on the brakes, propelling me forward into the dashboard. I now regret taking off my seat belt. My chest slammed into the dashboard. I held back a yelp, but that sure as hell was going to bruise later.

"What the hell?" I screeched. I looked ahead. Oh shit.

Walkers. And a lot of them.

Carl and Sophia locked themselves in the bathroom, due to Lori's and Carol's request. The two mothers ducked in the seats by the table. Dale freed himself from the confinement of his seat belt and crawled to the back. I hid underneath the dashboard. Let's face it: they most likely saw us approach.

"Fuck," I breathed. I've been saying that quite a lot lately. My bow was in the master bedroom with my quiver. If I could only crawl back there...

However, Lori gave me a look that clearly told me _no._ Upon hearing a moan, I scooted back closer to the dashboard. _Fuck __fuck __fuck._

A shadow passed over the window. _Please __don't __see __me. _Something fumbled with the door handle. _Since __when __can __zombies __open __doors?_ I pulled out the knife that I thankfully brought with me. The door was slowly pulled open, and I prepared to pounce.

It was Rick. He crept inside, and quietly shut the door behind him. He crawled to his relieved wife.

They were too quiet, so I didn't really hear what they were saying. All I heard was _Walkers_, _Daryl_, and _kill_. I'm just going to take a stab at this and say Daryl wants to kill the Walkers.

Lori wasn't happy with whatever her husband was planning. Not surprising. She's too cautious, but that's a good thing right?

Rosco saw me, and motioned me over with his finger.

"Go find Daryl. We can't risk alarming other Walkers with our guns, but maybe with your bow and his crossbow, you could pick off a few," Rick explained.

"There's just one problem with that. There's no way in hell I'm going out there!" I screamed in a hushed tone.

"You're gonna fucking have to," Rosco growled. All I could do was whimper and shake my head yes.

\/\/ /-\ |_ |/_ | |\| (_-, ::: |) /= /-\ |)

I ducked behind a minivan, waiting for the wandering herd of Walkers to pass by. Where the bloody fuck was Daryl?

I'm still in shock at how Rosco pretty much became Shane for about 4 seconds. It scared me really. He didn't _ask_ he _demanded_ it. Damn Rosco, didn't think you had it in ya.

Nocking an arrow, I crept to the front end of the minivan. I'm truly not enjoying myself.

Rosco said Daryl was hiding. He's a hunter so he's probably really damn good at it. I'm a girl who is able to miss the most obvious thing in the world. So yeah, sorry Rosco, but I'm going to fail this mission. Epically.

I crawled on my hands and knees to the next car. My bow was still in my grasp, and I was pretty fucking stupid for doing this. Before I reached the tire of the red Toyota, my knee held down the string while my arm was moving forward, so I was unknowingly about to fire my bow.

Noticing what was transpiring from under me, I quickly tried to slowly return the string back to its relaxed position. However, due to Murphy's Law, I was royally fucking up the string, so that meant I'd have to un-nock the arrow, and you should know my luck my by now, right?

The tip of the arrow jabbed into my hand, and went about halfway through. I bit my lip so I wouldn't scream. I'm not sure how I accomplished that, but I am sure that this hurts like fucking hell!

"Motherfucker!" I grumbled. I tossed my bow forward, and dove for the car. I took out my knife and hacked off the bottom half of my tank top. I tightly wrapped it around my bleeding hand, and tied a knot with my free hand and teeth.

That didn't really matter though, since Walkers had already caught on to the scent of fresh blood.

I leaned my head back on the passenger door of the truck, and sighed.

"I'm fucked."

**Cliffhanger! Hope you enjoyed this chapter! And sorry for the late update. I didn't get as many reviews as I would've been happy with. Oh wells. REVIEW GODDAMN IT OR DARYL IS GETTING SEVERELY INJURED IN THE NEXT CHAPTER! C'est la vie!**


	4. In Due Time

**A/N: And here is chapter four. As always, I don't own The Walking Dead or any song that ends up in here. I only own Scarlett!**

4. I'd Rather Feel Pain Than Nothing At All

"I'm fucked."

I picked up my bow with my non-bleeding hand-which was the left by the way-and made a mad dash down the road. I wouldn't be able to use the weapon, since I couldn't shoot left-handed. So my previous statement of "I'm fucked" is a total understatement.

'If I get out of this alive, I will never curse again. I will never question Shane's rule. I will always follow directions. I will do whatever anybody asks of me. I just wanna live!' I thought.

A zombie limped in front of me, so I pulled an arrow from my quiver and stabbed the Walker through the mouth. I may not be able to shoot, but I still can stab these damn things!

I pulled the arrow out of the corpse, and continued to run. I sure hope Daryl is close. Knowing my luck, he's probably hiding in the opposite direction of where I'm going.

'Stay optimistic!' my conscience screamed.

I stabbed another Walker. These things are so persistent! It really, really pisses me off.

"Daryl! Where the hell are you?" I yelled. I pretty much attracted all of the Walkers attention with my bloody hand, so it shouldn't matter if I yelled or not.

I heard a moan, so I jabbed my arrow in the direction of the sound. It went through a zombie's forehead, and it dropped at my feet. I didn't bother trying to pull it out, I just grabbed another arrow out of my quiver, and ran like hell.

"DARYL!" I screamed again. I know he's not Superman or Spider Man or one of those heroes who always saves the day, but COME ON! I'M IN SOME SERIOUS SHIT RIGHT NOW!

"Uungh!" Stab. "Raahhgg!" Stab. "Ooarhh!" Stabbity stab stab.

Oooh yay black spots.

Wait. Shit. That's my vision. Yup. I'm seriously fucked. Guess I'll be having fun being Satan's whore.

"Uuuhhhnnn!"

_Whoooosh. _

My long red hair slightly twisted in the wind. Funny thing was, there wasn't even a slight breeze. I caught a glimpse of red and yellow in my peripheral vision. Where'd that bolt come from? I pivoted around, and I almost cried with joy.

My redneck savior.

"You're a sight for darkening eyes," I whispered, a small smile reaching its way to my cheeks.

"Grooagh!"

"Shut yo' ass up!" I told a Walker charging in my direction. I thrust my arrow into its left eye. It let out a small cry before falling over on the pavement.

I spit out "Bitch" then ran in Daryl's direction. My right hand was on fire, my vision was blackening, and I felt like passing out. What a great combination.

'I blame Murphy's Law,' I thought. I drop kicked a limping zombie, and jumped over its downed body. It may not be dead, but its still out of my way.

'I wonder if I can take back the whole, "I will not curse and follow Shane's rule" shit...'

I reached Daryl, and he grabbed my right wrist in a not-so-kind manner. I gasped at how much of a death lock my limb was in. That was so going to bruise later.

"Good fuckin' job!" he yelled. It's not like I _purposely_ shot myself! However, being my bitchy, sarcastic self, I didn't answer with that. This is what I answered with:

"I know I did a fucking awesome job, you don't have to point it out!"

I swear, I never saw someone so pissed off in their life. But Daryl's a good Southern boy, so he wouldn't hit a girl even if his life depended on it. Nor would he leave one behind (I hope this is true).

"Fuckin' move!" he ordered, throwing me in front of him.

"Yes sir!" I yelled back at him.

I ran at a pace that wasn't a jog, but wasn't a sprint. My luck was obviously better since I didn't pass out from blood loss. Yet.

Unfortunately, I jinxed myself. My legs started to wobble and it felt like my ankles went numb. I had to press my good hand to a car in order to balance myself. Note to self: beg whatever divine figure that exists for better luck later.

Another thought came to mind (I should stop thinking now and let adrenaline take over), where in the bloody hell were we going?

I wasn't able to contemplate on that thought, since Daryl grabbed my elbow and hauled me back to him. He ripped off my bandage, stole an arrow from my quiver, tied the cloth around the arrowhead, loaded it into his crossbow, and fired in a random direction. The arrow went flying into the woods.

Well, my hand stopped bleeding. Now it was just dried blood and zombie fluids.

The redneck grabbed the red cloth from his back pocket and tightly wound it around my hand. He led me over to a white Mustang. He opened the back door and shoved me into the back seat. Daryl pushed me onto the floor, so now I was laying on my bow, and he got in and quietly shut the door. He laid on the seat, and we were there for a few moments.

I then noticed the proximity of his crossbow to my face.

You know, when opossums play dead, they actually pass out from sheer terror. I think that's what happened with me.

**\/\/ /-\ |_ |/_ | |\| (_-, ::: |) /= /-\ |)**

"...Wake...up..."

I gasped and shot straight up. Out of instinct, my fist shot out in the direction of the voice, but met with a palm. Pain spread throughout my hand. Fuck, that was my bad hand!

Daryl caught my punch. That's not really surprising honestly.

"Walkers 're gone. Gotta get back tuh the RV," he said quickly. Okay then.

We were still in the Mustang. From the position of the sun, I'd say I was out for about an hour. Hopefully our dumbass camp didn't leave us.

Daryl helped me off of the floor of the Mustang and hauled my sorry ass out. My legs were sore from the uncomfortable position I was laying in, but hey, it's better than being eaten alive, right? Right.

"Why is it always you that ends up saving me?" I pondered aloud.

"Everyone else is purty much useless," he replied.

I nodded. My luck went to shit again as I tripped over a dead Walker. Daryl caught me, but only because his hand held up my chest.

Ya'll should know what happened next.

I blushed.

Then was angered.

Punched Daryl with my good hand.

And finished it all off by storming away.

God I'm a dumbass.

"Are you fuckin' stupid or sumthin'?" he asked as he grabbed my arm and hauled my ass in the right direction. I'm not afraid to admit that he's not the first person to ask that.

"I'm not sure I'm capable of answering that," I replied, rolling my eyes.

He sighed angrily and continued to drag me against my will. May I just say, DAMN HE IS STRONG. He was using very little effort to drag me along, and I'm resisting with every muscle I have.

"Let go of me!" I growled, clawing at his hand that held onto my arm.

He pulled me to him and held both of my hands in one of his, and the other was over my mouth. He backed me up to a car and there was very little distance between us. I struggled, but it was useless. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

"Yer gonna shut the fuck up and follow me withou' tryin' ta run away. Understand?" he whispered harshly.

I jerked violently in an attempt to escape. Fail. He just pushed me harder up against the car.

"We can do this all day," Daryl smirked.

I glared at him then nodded. He removed his hand from my mouth and backed up a few steps. Then he released my hands.

"Dick," I muttered, pushing past him. I swear I heard him answer with "I try" but I was too busy being a bitch to notice.

So for the next fifteen minutes, I was literally following Daryl like a puppy. I was staring at the ground more than the surroundings and dragging my feet. I felt like shit.

"Hey Daryl, can we take a break?" I asked. I lifted my head to look at him, and he gave me an over-the-shoulder glance.

"You a'ight?" he questioned.

"Jus' tired..." I mumbled. I lost my balance for a moment, but caught myself. I probably looked like a drunk honestly.

I took for a few more steps, stumbled, and fell on my ass. Wow, it's getting really hard to walk.

Daryl walked to me, and crouched down so that our faces were level. I looked up at his bright blue eyes and wondered why such a tough guy had such soft eyes. My eyes found the ground again, and I groaned.

The redneck took my chin in his hand and lifted my head back up.

"C'mon. The RV's close," he told me. I weakly nodded. He stood, and held out a hand for me. I gratefully took it, and he hauled me up.

I staggered once I was on my feet again. Daryl sighed and put his arm around my shoulders. He pushed me along, and I just went with the flow.

We walked like this for about five more minutes, and then the RV came into view.

"Scarlett!" was shouted by someone.

Daryl handed me off to Lori and Carol, who led me to the RV. They set me on the couch and examined me quickly. They unwrapped Daryl's cloth and gasped at the huge gaping hole on my hand.

"What happened?" the asked simultaneously.

"Shot myself," I answered.

The two women started to demand supplies from the kids and men in the RV, which they did get, and started to work on my poor hand. After an entire bottle of pain pills, disinfectant, and an entire roll of bandages, I was good to go. And, I felt way better.

"I'm going to lay down for awhile," I told them. I grabbed my notebook out of my backpack and an ink pen, and went for the bunk beds. I crawled on the top, and opened the spiral bound notebook to the first clean page.

_Hey everyone. Fourth guide. _

_Alright, if you have complete shit luck, just shoot yourself. In the face. Right now. Why? Because I shot myself with my own damn bow and almost got eaten by the damn Walkers! Oh, and a Walker is the redneck term for zombies. _

_Having a group is useful. It really is. They'll take care of you when you're hurt. Physically or mentally. That, and they help keep your sanity. Everyday there's new drama that reminds me of high school. It's those dreadful years all over again. _

_It turns out, the son of Rosco (why does this sound like it should be a movie title?) has played Call of Duty before, so I really hit the jackpot this time! _

_Oh, and don't start liking someone in your group. If you have watched those shitty romance movies, it never turns out good, despite the ending. This is real life people. It doesn't matter how hot the guy with the crossbow in your group is_

I scribbled out that almost-complete sentence until it was illegible.

_As I was saying, don't like somebody in your group period. Your main priority: survival. _

_Godspeed, Scarlett_

I turned to another clean page. Out of sheer boredom, I began to doodle. I was a decent artist; I mean, I did draw my own tattoo designs. My doodle consisted of the superhero version of my self massacring huge groups of zombies.

I flipped to the next page. This time, I decided to attempt to write a poem (or song).

_I can't believe_

_The things I've seen_

_I can't believe_

_This life I'm living_

_So much misery_

_I could never be_

_The one to survive_

_This horrible fight_

_But here I am_

_Breathing and damned_

_Cursed to live_

_Cursed to fight_

_Always running from the night_

_Don't wanna be here_

_Don't want to live in fear_

_I just want to be in your arms_

_Where I'm forever safe from harm_

_Where I'm _

"Hey."

I jumped from the sudden voice, which caused me to jerk my hand upwards. Well, that's ruined.

It was Rosco.

"I'm sorry Scarlett. I shouldn't have made you go out there with all of those Walkers," he said. And he sounded so sincere about it.

"Don't worry about it," I told him, closing my notebook.

"You've almost been eaten twice because of me. I feel so bad about it," he continued.

I put my hand on his shoulder. "It's fine. Really. I did it of my own free will. The group's survival is my top priority," I lied. _My_ survival is my top priority.

Rosco looked up at me. I noticed that he had bright blue eyes as well. Just like Daryl's...

I almost slapped myself.

He nodded repeatedly. He still looked upset about the whole ordeal, but I'm pretty sure he'll get over it eventually.

"Can you still use your bow?" he asked out of the blue.

"Hell yeah. I'm not letting a flesh wound get me down. As my mama used to say, 'Keep your head up high and your middle finger higher,'" I smiled. My Indianan drawl came through on that last sentence.

Rosco let out an airy laugh. Well, he's happier!

"C'mon, we're about ready to eat," he said. He moved out of the way so I could jump down. The policeman assisted me, and said, "Ladies first."

I laughed, and stopped myself from saying asshole. Rosco escorted me three feet to the table, where I sat down next to Sophia.

"Hey Scarlett, can you teach me how to use your bow?" she asked. I patted her head.

"In due time."

**Reviews make me update faster :3 and that song Scarlett was writing is MINE. I OWN it. Don't try to COPY it. **

**And by the amounts of views I get on this story, more people should hit the little review button. Please and thank you :) can you please take three minutes out of your life to type out something? Flames are encouraged! **


	5. Life Lessons

**A/N: Here is the fifth chapter of The Zombie Survival Guide! I'm happy with all the views this story gets! Yet, I'm disappointed in reviews. REVIEW DAMN IT. And I don't own The Walking Dead. Ya'll should know that by now. **

**This chapter is just a lot of bonding between Scarlett and the camp. Not much Daryl, but hey, the others need some lovin' :) **

**And there is such a thing as Indianan drawl. I have one. **

**Here's a random fun fact about Scarlett: She's always had anger issues and she blames it on her red hair.**

**Anyway, on with the story!**

5. Life, It Seems, Will Fade Away, Drifting Further Everyday

"Okay, so put three fingers right there...no down a little...there you go!"

I bet you're wondering what I'm talking about you dirty minded freaks!

"Now pull back. This is the hard part. Use all of your muscles! Come on, PULL!"

That's right, I'm teaching Sophia how to use my bow. Poor girl, she can barely pull the string back. There is quite a bit of resistance, but I'm sure she'll get it.

"I know you can do it, Sophia!" Carl encouraged.

The girl pulled the string back a few inches. Her face was scrunched up in possible anger and frustration. She got it back about two more inches before she had to let go. They arrow didn't come off at all.

"It's too hard!" she pouted.

"Alright, come here," I motioned her to come back to me. She complied.

"So, you want to make sure you're grounded, like such," I explained. I pivoted her body so that her hips were pointed in a forty-five degree angle. "Now, when you're pulling back, twist your hips back into the original straddling position," I continued.

She nodded, and attempting the move. Sophia was able to pull the string back a little farther, but definitely not all the way.

"You'll get there," I smiled, patting her head.

"How're you able to pull it back?" she asked.

"Well, I've been doin' archery for about fifteen years," I answered, "Just do a lot of push ups."

"C'mon! Let's go get strong!" Carl exclaimed. He grabbed Sophia's hand, and dragged her along to go do push ups.

I laughed lightly. I picked up my bow from where Sophia set it, and unnocked the arrow.

The camp stopped at a nice open field surrounded by trees with a few hills. There was a lake about a half a mile in the woods, and it was surprisingly clean. Daryl found it (of course) and he brought back a deer along with about a dozen or so squirrels.

I'm really getting sick of squirrel.

I turned on my heel and went back to the RV. I sat down at the table, and pulled out my notebook from my arrow-filled duffel bag. I kinda lied to Glenn about it being full of arrows. There was actually stuff on the bottom.

Flipping the book open, I went to a clean page.

_Nicknames for Camp_

_Rick – Rosco_

_Lori – Druscilla _

_Carl – Romeo _

_Carol – Sandra Anderson _

_Sophia – Angel _

_Glenn – Secret Asian Man_

_Shane – Judas _

_Daryl –_ _Great Redneck Hunter_

_Andrea – Nazi bitch _

_Dale – Benvolio _

I flipped to a new page. Might as well write the next survival guide.

_Numero cinco! _

_Well, here's my new tip of the day: teach children how to use weapons. They'll use it sometime in life. And, if you're ever royally fucked up the ass, they might just save you! So, DO IT!_

_CDC, here we come! If nobody's there, I will be so pissed. So, so pissed. Then my sorry ass will most likely be eaten. Oh the joys that brings..._

_Well, as the French say, c'est la vie!_

_Godspeed, Scarlett_

That was the shortest guide ever. It barely took up a quarter of the page. I'm running out of ideas.

I placed the notebook back in its place. I moved the arrows out of the way to look at my other possessions. My iPod, a few books, my cell phone, and my photo album. I dug that out.

Opening the cover, I browsed through the multiple photos I've taken over the years. My graduation photo all the way up to a day before the zombie apocalypse. The most dominant pictures were the ones of me and my boyfriend.

And of those pictures, we were kissing most of the time.

"I miss you..." I muttered, tracing my finger over one of his pictures. I don't think I'd ever be able to get over him.

I don't even want to think about him getting burned alive. Or bitten by a zombie. I just want to reverse the clock back to a time much simpler than this. A time where every night he'd pick me up from the bar and we'd go back to his apartment together.

I felt my hands clench into fists. Tears threatened to spill over. No one would understand what it feels like to be me until they actually have to live through the hell I do right now.

"Goddamn it!" I screamed, punching the wall. A fine crack was a result from the impact, as well as a small dent. It's a good thing it was with my left hand.

Glenn came rushing in. "What happened?"

I brushed past him and stormed off into the woods. I wanted to die. Right fucking now.

\/\/ /-\ |_ |/_ | |\| (_-, ::: |) /= /-\ |)

"What was that about?" Rick asked.

"I have no idea..." Glenn answered. Both looked at the area where the girl was once sitting. A book was lying on the table. Rick moved past the pizza boy, and examined the book.

"Shit!" he yelled.

He ran out the door. Glenn looked at the book. It was a picture book, of her and some blonde haired guy. One of the captions under a photo read:

_Scarlett Matthews and Wyatt Daniels  
>Love like Romeo and Juliet,<br>Only With a Better Ending :)_

\/\/ /-\ |_ |/_ | |\| (_-, ::: |) /= /-\ |)

"Scarlett!" Rick yelled. The red head only got about a five minute head start, but she really knew how to make her way through the woods.

The policeman ran down the cleared path a few more feet. "Goddamn it Scarlett, where are you?" he yelled again.

Rick continued to run down the path until he arrived at the lake that Daryl had found. His blue eyes quickly scanned the area, but didn't see a sign of the girl.

"Go away," he heard. It was barely a whisper.

"Where are you?" he asked. He didn't see a sign of red anywhere.

"Just go away. I want to die out here," she sobbed.

"I saw those pictures. It must be really hard; trying to survive everyday. Most people couldn't do it," he reasoned.

"I love him," Scarlett whispered.

"Please come out. I can help you. You just have to let me," Rick continued, searching the woods.

There was a slight shuffling noise. Rick looked up, and saw a patch of red in one of the taller trees. He casually walked under the tree and strained to look up.

Scarlett was sitting on a low branch, curled up, and crying.

"Come down, Scarlett. We care about you. Everyone in camp does," Rick said softly. She shot him a glance.

"No," she muttered.

"Please. I'm begging you."

"Go away!" Scarlett screamed, violently jerking to look at him. However, this caused her to fall out of the tree. It wasn't that far of a fall; fifteen feet at most.

Rick ran to catch her, only for her to land on her feet. She winced from the impact, but the redhead managed to stay balanced.

"How'd you do that?"

"'s not the first time I've fallen out of a tree," she responded.

Rick held his hand out to the girl. She just stared at the gesture.

"Please," he begged.

\/\/ /-\ |_ |/_ | |\| (_-, ::: |) /= /-\ |)

***Scarlett's POV***

So, I ended up going with Rosco.

He's a nice guy, really. He's always trying to help people; to _save_ people. From physical harm...and from themselves. Since you know, the hardest person to know is yourself.

"Why didn't you give up on me?" I asked from behind him.

"No one deserves to die. Least of all you, Scarlett. You're a nice girl who has a whole life to live. It may not be a pretty life, but some would kill for it," he told me.

"So...you think that there's still hope in this shithole?"

"Maybe. There's has to be."

"I admire you, Rick. I really do," I said.

He let out a small laugh from in front of me.

We continued our hike in complete silence. Something in the back of my mind kept nagging me. Something my hick brother used to tell me all the time. I just couldn't remember what it was though...

Silence...something about silence...

_Shit._

"Rosco, something's wrong."

"What is it?"

"When the woods are completely silent, then something's wrong," I told him.

"That's an old wives' tale," he replied.

We neared the exit, and my anxiety was about to explode. My nerves were on edge, and my pulse was double what it normally was.

The camp came into view, and everything seemed to be in order. Key word: seemed.

Walkers were being attracted to our small encampment. Rosco and I were the only ones to notice, since there was a hill blocking the view.

"We have to warn them!" I whispered harshly.

"If we make noise, then more'll come, and we'll risk being seen if we make a run for it," he replied.

"Fuck," I muttered.

There was only about a dozen or so Walkers, but we only had so much ammunition and so many people. And the people there didn't even know about oncoming danger. We're in some deep shit here.

I was jumpy from adrenaline. Rosco and I were being as discreet as possible while trying to be quick about reaching our people.

"Rosco! Don't argue with me, but I'm going on a kamikaze mission," I said, running past him. He grabbed for me, only to come up a few inches short.

I reached the top of the hill. Dale waved to me, but I faced the woods. I sucked in a breath and felt an eerie calm embrace me.

"Hey you ugly ass motherless fuckers!" I screamed. This caught their attention. I waved my arms haphazardly. This caught their attention even more.

They quickly limped towards me. I flipped them off and ran off in a random direction that was not near camp. I whistled at them.

"Come on!" I yelled.

Shane and Daryl ran over the hill. Shane threw Rosco a shotgun and Daryl had his trusty crossbow. Shane aimed at a Walker's head with his own gun, and fired. The head pretty much exploded.

The gunshot attracted the remained Walkers towards the three men. I whistled at the zombies and they started to come at me. God, these things are fucking dumb.

Daryl fired his crossbow, and a bolt went soaring through the air and went straight through its cranium. Rosco shot a Walker from short range, and just liked the last time, the zombies went towards the small group.

We seriously need to consider finding us some silencers.

The three guys picked off some more Walkers. T-Dog and Glenn joined in on the massacre with a baseball bat and a crowbar. It didn't take very long for all of the Walkers to be killed.

"Fuckin' told you!" I yelled at Rosco.

He looked in my direction and his face paled. He took off sprinting to me. Shane and Daryl joined in. Am I missing something?

A moan.

I turned.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding," I breathed. Four Walkers were right behind me. One lunged for me, only to get punched in the face. I left all of my weapons behind, so my fists are going to suffice.

It stumbled back, only to come forward again. I jabbed at it with my left hand, since my right one still had a gaping hole in it. Its nose broke, but it didn't stop its advances.

"C'mon you ugly sumbitch," I mumbled. Shit, redneck drawl's coming in.

I kicked it square in the chest. It fell to the ground, and I used this opening to run like a little bitch.

\/\/ /-\ |_ |/_ | |\| (_-, ::: |) /= /-\ |)

I didn't see what all went down, since I ran to camp and dove for the RV. Lori and Carol were holding their children, and Dale was updating them on what was happening from the air vent. Andrea was "protecting" the vehicle.

"That's some crazy shit," I gasped. My lungs were on fire. Lori shot me a look that clearly read 'Watch your mouth.'

"Are you alright honey?" Carol asked.

"I'm fine. Punched a Walker in the face, fist hurts a bit, but there's no scratch marks," I told her. I even showed her my hand and let the two women exam it.

"Weren't you scared?" Carl asked.

"Of course. But you just have to act brave in front of Walkers even if you're scared. Can't show any weakness. No mercy. No forgiveness."

"Even if they're your friends or family?" Sophia questioned.

"Doesn't matter. They might've destroyed a family or a friendship," I answered.

"So you're saying, be heartless," Carl said.

"Not exactly."

I glanced out the window and saw the five men return.

"Scarlett."

"Yeah?"

A black woman, I think her name was Jacqui, placed her hand on my arm.

"I know you're strong and capable, but be careful," she told me. I nodded, and exited the RV.

\/\/ /-\ |_ |/_ | |\| (_-, ::: |) /= /-\ |)

Dusk was approaching, and I was helping burn zombie bodies. I didn't really have a problem with it, only I was stuck on doing it with Daryl.

"Fucking shit," I mumbled, dragging an obese zombie over the field to the fire.

"Need help?" Andrea asked.

"Yeah," I said.

She walked up beside me and grabbed one of the used-to-be man's arms, and helped me drag it. Blood smeared over the grass, and I felt sad. Nature wasn't meant to be destroyed. Not like this.

We eventually made it over the fire pit, and we rolled him in it. Cinders and smoke went up in a tornado-like motion.

"Thanks," I said.

"No problem," she replied.

We watched the body burn. Flesh melted off the muscle, and the muscle sizzled off of the bone. The bones just cracked from the heat.

"It's horrible," she commented.

"I know what you mean," I said.

"Do you think your family's okay?" she asked.

"They're rednecks. They can survive anything," I answered. I really wish that were true.

"I know what you mean," she laughed, motioning to Daryl.

I felt myself smile.

"I'll see you around," I told her, making my way to said redneck.

Daryl was busy making sure the undead were dead. He was taking a pick ax to their already bloody heads.

"Brutal," I commented under my breath.

"Whut do ya want," he asked without looking in my direction.

"Friendly conversation?" It sounded more like a question than a statement.

Daryl sighed, and gave me one of those over the shoulder glances. He then went back to mutilating the bodies. I flinched at each sickening strike.

"So, whut's with yer tattoos?"

"Um, they mean something to me," I answered. I instinctively pulled my Sophie shorts down to cover up the tattoo on my outer thigh.

"Like whut," he pressed on.

I pulled on the collar of my plain green shirt to show the small eagle that resided on the left side of my chest. Daryl looked at it, then continued mutilating.

"This eagle represents my freedom. At lot of eagles are in captivity, but the few that are still in the wild are very...well free," I laughed.

The redneck made a sound to show that he was listening.

I let the collar of my shirt go and went on to the next tattoo.

"Um, this one, on my calf," I said, pointing to the dolphin on my right calf, "It's my mom's favorite animal. I didn't get to see her much, so I thought having it would help me think she's always with me."

He nodded.

"My tramp stamp," I said, pulling my shirt up to show two pistols pointing at a slight downward angle in different directions with the magazines connecting with a heart being made from the connecting point, "Shows that my heart will always be protected."

I'm pretty sure Daryl laughed.

"Tha's bullshit," he commented.

"No it's not," I retorted.

He dropped the pick ax and briskly walked to me. He grabbed my upper arm and dragged me towards the woods. I was stumbling over my feet the entire time, and I was also complaining the entire time.

Daryl ended up dragging me to the small lake. He let go of me, and I rubbed the spot where he held onto me. I'm pretty sure that's going to leave a bruise.

"Did it ever occur to ya, tha' there's all kinds of things out here," he gestured around us, "That would love tuh eat ya?"

I really didn't see his point.

"It's not yer heart tha' needs protectin', it's yer body. Survival," he continued.

"So you're telling me to not care?" I growled.

"Ya don' git it. Yer gonna end up risking yer own life tuh try tuh save someone else an' end up gittin' ya both killed," he said.

"I can't believe you," I deadpanned.

"Carin' isn't fit fer this world," he finished.

"You're an asshole," I spat.

He shook his head. Looks like he's not in the mood to argue.

"If caring isn't fit for this world, then why do you save me? Huh?" I ranted.

"The cops would bitch at me if I didn'," Daryl answered. He started to walk off, but I blocked his path. He was sooo not getting away with me bitching him out.

"Are you telling me that you didn't care that Merle sawed off his own hand? That you don't care if he's alive or dead? Hello, people have family and friends in this camp. Just not you," I bitched. He gave me a look that told me to not go further in on the subject.

"Those people could end up saving your sorry ass one day, so you better fucking get your goddamn act together. I'm not going to stand for it, and I'm sure as hell the people there aren't going to either. So shut the fuck up, suck up your pride, and act like you'd actually give a damn if the people in that pathetic camp end up dead," I finished. The redneck leaned in closer to me.

"Ya either got a lot of guts, or yer jus' fucking stupid," he whispered harshly in my ear. The way he said it made my blood run cold. Daryl stormed past me, and I just stood there in shock.

_He does care._

**A/N: I feel as though our favorite redneck went a little out of character. Comments? Suggestions? Review please! **

**And the reason why Scarlett is able to bitch at Daryl like that is mainly because she majored in psychology. She knows how the mind works. **

**I can't stress this enough, but _REVIEW!_ Thank you :) I need to know how ya'll feel about this story! **


	6. Reasons Why We Never Get Anything Done

**A/N: Blah blah blah. Nothing much to say here... uhhhh Daryl's hot? Hehe. Hehe.. Hehe... Well, dyed my hair red and I must admit, I like it! Even though my brother says I look like Lady GaGa... **

**Random fun fact time! Scarlett's biggest fear is dying alone. Not like, relationship alone, but without somebody there to comfort her.**

6. I'll Be Your Teacher, I'll Show You The Ropes

_He does care._

I was walking to camp in a daze. Looks like I'm a little rusty on my college major. I never noticed the "signs" of the Dixon boy actually caring. Sure, he was an ass about 24/7, but there were some of the times where, I guess he was nice.

It doesn't make sense.

I spent for-fucking-ever learning about the ways of the human mind. Some people are just too hard to read, and it really pisses me off.

Such as Daryl Dixon.

I'll never understand him...

I'm going to go fucking insane over this. Over _him_ to be more specific.

It's high school all over again.

"I swear I'm gonna hang myself from a tree..." I muttered, nearing camp.

The sun was peaking over the horizon, and I didn't even get to sleep. Fucking joy. I could feel myself about to audibly growl.

"Scarlett!"

I lifted my head enough to see Carl running towards me.

"Yeah Shark-bait?"

I messed up his hair when he got in range of my arm.

"Me and my dad were bettin' on what you and Daryl were doing in the woods. So, what'd you guys do?"

I almost choked.

"What?"

"You guys kiss?" a smile stretched over his face.

"No, Carl. We just talked," I patted his head, and brushed past him. He followed on my heels like a puppy.

"You went into the woods...to talk..." he sounded disappointed.

"Yes. A friendly conversation." Too bad it wasn't friendly.

"Lame," he commented. My jaw hit the ground.

"Lame?" I questioned.

"Yeah! I was expecting, you know, more," he shrugged. I tossed my arm over his shoulders and held him close to me. He didn't seem to enjoy the closeness.

"You see, m'boy, there's this thing called, 'I Am Awesome, Daryl's Jealous.' Due to this, we will never be compatible. There's another thing called, 'I Am Awesome, Anyone Who Disagrees Can Jump Off A Cliff.' Daryl falls into both categories, so put us in a small space together for a long period of time, someone's gonna die," I explained. Carl burst out laughing.

"You can't be serious," he said in short gasps.

"Oh, I'm dead serious."

"What if I went and told him that?"

"Then you'd really become shark-bait."

"You wouldn't."

"Oh but I would," I smirked.

"Good luck finding a shark," he smirked as well.

He managed to get himself free from my embrace, and headed to the RV. He then turned on his heel and his smile almost bisected his face.

"Don't try to deny it, Scarlett! You like Daryl!" he yelled.

"You're so dead!" I yelled back, running to catch him.

\/\/ /-\ |_ |/_ | |\| (_-, ::: |) /= /-\ |)

Rick leaned against the Winnebago, watching his son get chased around by the hot-headed Indiana girl. A smile found its way on his lips. Even in this time of despair and misery, some people can still find a way to be happy.

"Get back here punk!" Scarlett laughed. She dove for Carl, only to come up short and roll down the hill. The two laughed in unison.

"It's a cute thing to watch, right?" Lori commented, walking up to her husband.

"Sure is," he replied, draping his arm over her shoulders. She balled her hands in his shirt and pulled him closer.

The couple watched the younger survivors play.

"Do you think, if this apocalypse never happened, we would meet Scarlett?" Lori asked.

"I dunno," her husband answered.

"What about Carol? Or Andrea? Or Daryl? Anybody?"

"Not sure. It's a possibility, but I kinda doubt it."

"Scarlett likes Daryl!" Carl exclaimed. He then abruptly got tackled by Scarlett, and the duo laughed louder.

"Do you think our little redheaded wonder likes that redneck?" Lori questioned.

"I wanna say she's playing along, but she's not denying it either," Rick smirked.

"Well, if anyone can straighten that boy out, it's definitely Scarlett," she smiled.

Rick glanced down at her wife, and placed a quick peck on her lips.

"Time to go," he said. The policeman left his wife to stop the Dynamic Duo's wrestling match.

\/\/ /-\ |_ |/_ | |\| (_-, ::: |) /= /-\ |)

"Say uncle!" I exclaimed, tickling Carl even more.

"Not until you say you like Daryl!" Carl giggled.

"Hell has to freeze over first," I replied.

My fingers jabbed into his sides, which in turn caused him to laugh. Tears were forming in his eyes from all of the laughing. Well, until he says uncle, I'm not going to stop!

"Mind if I ask if you could release my son?" Rosco asked, a smile on his face as he approached us.

"Sorry sir, but your son needs to be beat down," I replied. Carl made a sound of protest, but it was drowned out in his own laughter.

I was distracted, so Carl managed to get out from under me. Damn.

"How's your hand?" Rosco asked, watching his son's retreating form.

"Oh you know, healing," I answered, brushing myself off.

Rosco helped me up, even though assistance wasn't required. It's just a gentleman thing to do, I guess. Chivalry isn't dead, dears! Even though the rest of the world is...

"Could you go find Daryl? We need to start packing up, and his help his needed," Rosco said. Well, fuck the last few sentences I just said...

"Why me?" I whined.

"He'd kill the rest of us in a heartbeat, but you, I don't think he minds your presence," he smiled. That is completely false there, Rosco...

"Sure," I agreed.

We separated, and I went on my redneck-hunt. I used all of my previous tracking lessons, but unfortunately, that got me completely nowhere. So, I did it the old-fashioned way...walking in random directions and calling out his name occasionally.

"Daryl!" I called. My voice echoed throughout the field.

I climbed to the top of a hill, made a complete sweep of the area, didn't see the person I was searching for, and shrugged.

"Well, fuck," I said to no one in particular. I turned on my heel, and ran into a hard ass surface. I stumbled back, tripped, and rolled down the hill in a very painful manner.

"You dick!" I yelled once I was at the bottom.

"I didn' do nothin'," Daryl replied.

"Double negative. Therefore you did do something," I told him. He looked completely lost.

"Yuh need tuh learn tuh walk 'pparently," he said. He leisurely strolled down the hill and reached my form. I was on my back, and I must say, despite the fall, I was pretty damn comfortable.

"Nah, you just need to learn to not sneak up on me," I said. Daryl ended up standing to my right. My eyes wandered up his body, and his bright blue eyes were examining me. Just like a predator.

I patted the grass next to me. "C'mon, the grass feels nice this time of year."

He pondered his options for a moment, and sat down. The redneck placed his crossbow next to him, far enough so I couldn't touch it, but close enough if an unlucky Walker decided to come by.

"Yer so fuckin' weird," he sighed.

"I take pride in that," I grinned.

A few moments of silence passed. I decided to kill the tranquility.

"You know what I regret? I don't regret the fights, or the alcohol, the abuse, being used, saying 'I'm sorry' so many times, but saying 'I love you' every time I fucked Wyatt," I told him.

Daryl tossed me a glance. "Why?" He didn't sound interested, but it was probably just to keep me entertained.

"Because, that made it official. If I decided to ever leave him, well, then I'd be a whore," I explained.

"Love is jus' a' overused word," he said.

"How would you know?" I looked up at him.

"Though' I was in love once," he stared off into the woods.

"What happened?" I pressed. He didn't answer. The redneck seemed to be in very deep thought.

"Nuthin'," Daryl answered. He shook his head, grabbed his crossbow, stood, and walked to the RV. Well, at least I know something about him. Other than his name, that is.

I put my hands behind my head and just kicked back.

"Miss Scarlett?"

"Hm?"

Sophia was walking towards me.

"Mr. Glenn found some food. Would you like to join us?"

"Sure."

I stood and walked a few steps behind Sophia. In reality, I was making sure no Walkers decided to come along and take a bite out of us.

We arrived at the RV, and our group was congratulating Glenn on his find. I saw how much he found, and I thanked every religious figure I could think of for this.

Glenn handed me canned ravioli, which I took gratefully. I found a place near the RV, sat down, and contemplated on how I was going to open it. I pulled out my knife, and carefully started to stab the edges.

My knife was barely making dents, since I was barely poking the metal. I didn't want to ruin my supper, and I didn't want to stab myself. Again.

"Need help there?" a male voice asked. I looked up. Shane.

"It'd be appreciated," attitude was seeping off of my words.

He laughed, grabbed the can, took out a knife of his own, and stabbed at the top with restraint. He made a few holes on the edges, and used the blade to open it. The lid came right off.

I mumbled out a quick, "Thank you," and accepted the can. Shane sat next to me, and cleaned his knife with a cloth.

"How'd you survive in Atlanta?" he questioned.

"I'm damn good at surviving," I answered, attempting to eat my ravioli with a knife.

"I'm serious."

"I had help."

That left him quiet for a minute.

"From who?" he continued.

"A solider. He was infected, but was determined to save a life. That life would happen to be mine," I let out an airy laugh, "he gave me his keys to a huge ass weaponry. He said it was filled to the roof with guns and ammunition. Never had the time to go."

"And now you decided it's a good time to tell us that? We _need_ guns. We _need_ ammo," he sounded pretty mad.

I sighed and unhooked the keys that dangled from my short's belt loop. I always carried them with me.

"It's a few towns to the north of here," I told him. I was thinking about giving Shane the keys, but it seemed like a very bad idea.

"Looks like that's where we're headed," he announced, standing. I shrugged, and put them back on a loop.

Shane left me to go tell Rosco everything I just told him. Rosco looked at me, then back to Shane. I gave him a small wave as I continued to eat my ravioli.

"Hey, what's goin' on?" T-Dog asked me.

"Go join their conversation," I responded, shooing him in the direction of the group that somehow became bigger.

\/\/ /-\ |_ |/_ | |\| (_-, ::: |) /= /-\ |)

Here's a list of people that are for going to the weaponry I held the keys to:

Shane, Daryl, T-Dog, Glenn, Andrea

People against it:

Rick, Lori, Carol, Jacqui, Dale

It's a pretty even match. However, I couldn't care less.

I was the one with the knowledge of getting there, and the power to open the gates. So, when it boils down to it, it's my decision.

Camp, however, didn't realize this.

This is the main reason we don't get anything done.

**Hope you liked it! Review please! So, should they go to the weaponry, or continue their journey to the CDC? Send me some suggestions! **


	7. Zombies of the Corn

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews guys! To satisfy your needs, this is just a total Scarlett/Daryl, and doesn't matter to the storyline (much) so skip it if you want, but hell, I love it! So, here is the random fun fact~**

**Scarlett hates any form of math. She says it gives her a headache, but she's still good at doing it. **

7. And It's True, I Hurt Too, Remember, That I Loved You

"Rick, we _need_ ammunition!" Shane argued.

"I know that, but what if it's overrun by Walkers?" Rosco argued back.

"What if the CDC is overrun by Walkers?"

God, they bitch like old women.

It's pretty damn entertaining though.

I was laying on a log, absorbing the nice rays. It was a beautiful day; not a cloud in the sky, along with the blistering temperature of one-hundred degrees! I had to hack up a nice pair of pants into shorts that could be mistaken for lingerie.

Carl and Sophia were playing by the RV. Dale was on watch with Glenn. Lori, Andrea, Carol, and Jacqui were washing clothes, T-Dog was chopping up wood for later use, Daryl was off doing something, and Rick and Shane were bitching at each other.

"Hey Scarlett!" Glenn called from atop the RV.

"What?" I called back, annoyed that my relaxation time was being cut short.

"Could you go up the road a few yards and see if there's an intersection?" he requested.

I sighed out, "Sure," and went to fetch my bow. Why do I get stuck doing this shit? Do they not remember that I shot myself? Apparently not.

My bow was leaning against the RV and the filled quiver was right next to it. I pulled the quiver over my head, and held the bow tightly in my left hand. I was able to shoot it now, but my aim was really off.

"Can I go too?" Carl asked.

"Nope," I answered automatically.

"Please?" he begged.

"No."

"I'll never ask for anything again! I promise!"

"...Fine."

**\/\/ /-\ |_ |/_ | |\| (_-, ::: |) /= /-\ |)**

"Are we there yet?"

"I don't know."

Glenn wasn't specific enough, so Carl and I were aimlessly going down the road, looking for any type of intersection. So far, it was all curves around fields. I didn't even see a speed limit sign. Or a cow crossing.

"This is so boring," Carl complained.

"You're the one who wanted to come along," I reminded him.

We surprisingly hadn't run into any Walkers. Just a few crows here and there. Which is quite creepy.

"How far do you think we've gone?" he asked.

"I dunno. Probably a fourth of a mile, if that."

Silence enveloped the area. Nothing moved. Time seemed to stand still. Our footsteps barely made a scuffing noise against the chipped-and-sealed road.

We continued our quest for about another fourth of a mile. I stopped and Carl followed suit.

"I'm not really seeing anything. We've gone the length of about five football fields. I'm done," I announced.

"Alright," my young companion agreed.

Turning around, we continued back.

**\/\/ /-\ |_ |/_ | |\| (_-, ::: |) /= /-\ |)**

I didn't plan on ending my day running through a hacked up cornfield. I doubt Carl did either. Yet here we are, trying to elude the Walkers chasing us. They aren't fast, but they sure as hell are persistent.

We stopped for a quick moment to catch our breath. The freaks were a good fifty yards behind us, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

"I want my dad," Carl confessed, close to tears.

"Don't worry. I'll make sure we make it back," I smiled. Thank you, optimism.

"How do you know that?"

"I'm from Indiana! Don't ever question me! If I say we'll make it back, then we are going to fucking make it back! If that requires me massacring ever undead son of a bitch here, then you can bet your cracker ass that I won't hesitate to do so!" I snapped.

"Okay, geez calm down."

"Uuungh!"

"Time to go!"

I grabbed Carl's wrist and dragged him along with me.

Here's how we got into this situation:

We began to head back to camp, when we ran into two Walkers coming out of the field (this is too much like Children of the Corn...) so we quickened our pace to go around them, only to find like a dozen or so feeding on a cow.

They smelled fresh meat, and we were trapped from behind and the front, so we went sideways. It worked, only these ugly whores chased us.

Yeah, fun times.

"Scarlett...gotta...breathe..." I heard Carl pant. I stopped, checked the distance between us and the undead, and started to calculate how long we had until we were in range of being dinner.

I took long, even breaths, and watched the Walkers coming towards us.

"C'mon," I said, patting Carl's back, signaling to get the hell out of there.

"How far until camp?"

"I really don't know. Everything's starting to look the same."

We started our survival run, and put a good eighty yard distance between us and our predators. We stopped for another quick break.

Something in my head clicked, and I fumbled my hand in the pack pocket of my shorts. I yanked out the object, and held it out to Carl. He took the large switchblade, opened it, then closed it.

"Just in case," I said.

He nodded, and we took off again when the Walkers began to get closer.

\/\/ /-\ |_ |/_ | |\| (_-, ::: |) /= /-\ |)

"I'm really hating this," I confessed. Night fell, and Carl was latched on my back along with my bow. We either a) ran past camp somehow or b) completely got off the trail when we ran through the cornfield.

"Tell me about it," Carl mumbled in my hair.

The only good thing was that the Walkers gave up on their chase. We miraculously eluded them, and I was relieved that the threat was gone. However, the night creatures wouldn't be so nice.

So here we are, on the road, hoping for another miracle.

"Why can't Daryl come out of nowhere and save your sorry ass again?" Carl asked.

"Hey, don't use that kind of language," I scolded.

"I'm just saying," he responded.

"I really wish he would though..."

My shoes made soft padding sounds against the road as we continued our venture. Crickets chirped in time, and there was the occasional howl.

The only thing in my mind was just keep on truckin'. I really wanted to sleep but that's kind of hard when 90% of the things in the woods wanted to eat me and when there's a child attached to your back.

Carl was gently snoring on my back, and the sound made my eyelids heavy.

The rustling bushes woke me up.

My head snapped in the direction of the sound, and I almost woke Carl up when a familiar figure walked out of them.

"Oh my god, Daryl!" relief flooded my words.

"'Bout damn time I found yuh," he said.

"How far away from camp are we?" I asked.

"I'd say an hour an' a half walk," he replied.

"Oh damn."

Carl surprisingly didn't even wake up.

"C'mon," Daryl commanded, motioning me to follow him in the woods. I obliged.

**\/\/ /-\ |_ |/_ | |\| (_-, ::: |) /= /-\ |)**

The redneck set up a small camp for the night, and we'd embark out in the morning. Carl woke up once to ask where we were, and I assured him that we'd be back at camp tomorrow. He lazily nodded then dozed off.

That left Daryl and I sitting around a small fire that he'd set up.

"Thanks for saving my ass. Again," I laughed lightly.

"Had tuh. Ya had that officer's kid wit' yuh," he replied, poking the fire with a stick.

That made me feel wanted. Please note heavy sarcasm.

"My mood just went to shit," I said.

Daryl grunted in response.

We sat in silence for awhile, then I realized that I was starving.

"Would you possibly have any food with you?" I asked from my uncomfortable position on a rock.

A dead squirrel landed on my chest in response. I bit my tongue so that I wouldn't scream.

I threw it back at Daryl's smirking face, but his redneck reflexes caught it in midair.

'Can you do the same with an arrow?' I thought, my face displaying the thought.

"Ya can't skin it yerself?" he asked, taking a knife to the poor animal's hide.

"I can actually," I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Prove it," he challenged, wagging the squirrel in front of him.

I reached for my switchblade, only to realize that Carl still had it. I didn't want to wake him, so I walked over to Daryl, sat down, and snagged the rodent out of his grasp.

"Knife," I demanded, holding out my hand for it. Once I felt the object in my palm, I made a fist around it, and began to hack the animal apart.

**\/\/ /-\ |_ |/_ | |\| (_-, ::: |) /= /-\ |)**

Fifteen minutes later, squirrel parts were roasting on the fire, and I was playing with the fur of it. I managed to get the fur off of the animal in one piece, so I'll be entertained for awhile.

"Not bad," the redneck commented, poking at the cooking meat with a stick.

"I lived in redneck territory. Learned how to do that when I was 'bout seven," I replied.

"Yuh don't seem like tha' kinda person."

"You'd be surprised at what I can do."

Daryl gave me a sideways glance, and the flames reflected in his blue eyes, which put me in a small trance. They were just so...hypnotizing. There's no other word to describe it.

"I could probably do everything you can. Minus the tracking. I just suck at that," I laughed.

"I highly doubt ya could," he responded.

"Wanna bet?"

"Ya'd lose."

"Sounds like a challenge to me," I smirked.

He gave me a full glance.

"Scarly, ya'd lose."

"Scarly? Really? Am I a dog?"

"Scarlett's too long," he said.

"Fuck you," I laughed, lightly slapping the side of his head.

"Yuh know yuh want tuh."

I stopped mid-laugh and thought about what he just said. In a way, I kind of wanted to. Right now. Hell, I wouldn't care if it was against a tree.

"I was kiddin'," he said, after not getting a response from me.

"I know. Just thinking," I replied.

"'Bout whut?"

"Life."

"Yer so fuckin' weird."

"How?" I questioned.

"Yuh act like a fuckin' girly girl when ya can hunt and survive. Yuh cry an' git emotional over the stupidest shit," he explained.

"At least I _have_ emotions," I muttered. Of course, redneck hearing is better than a deer's, so he heard me. Fuck.

"What's the point in 'em?"

"I want to keep something that reminds me that I'm not a mindless zombie walking around with an endless hunger for warm flesh," I snapped. I could practically hear my blood pressure rising.

Looks like I won the argument since I didn't get a response from the redneck.

"Daryl?"

"Hm?"

"Should I even bother surviving?" I asked. My gaze went up to the full moon. Tears threatened to spill over.

"That's more 'r less up tuh ya," he answered, pulling the squirrel meat out of the fire.

"What do you think though?" I faced him.

"If I had tuh choose you 'r the group, I'd pick ya. Yer not as emotionally attached as them."

"I was...kinda forced to join."

"I was there, Scarly."

Daryl handed me a piece of squirrel, which I accepted. I really didn't care what I ate right now, I just wanted food.

I tore into the meat, and didn't bother to chew much.

"Don't choke," Daryl advised me.

"Whatever," I said, taking another chunk of squirrel.

**\/\/ /-\ |_ |/_ | |\| (_-, ::: |) /= /-\ |)**

I finished devouring the squirrel, and I was curled up next to the fire for warmth. I was waiting for sleep to take me, but I wasn't going to be granted that luxury.

"Go tuh sleep already," Daryl grunted from his lookout position.

"I can't," I mumbled into the grass.

"An' why's that?"

"Ground isn't very comfortable."

"Come 'ere," he sighed. I lifted my head to look at the redneck. My hair got in the way, so naturally I brushed it out of the way. Within that small time frame, Daryl picked me up and dragged me to his little area.

"W-what are you doing?"

"Helpin' yuh sleep."

He sat down and positioned me so that I was using his lap as a pillow.

"Sleep," he ordered.

It came faster than I thought, due to a mix of he's pretty fucking comfortable and his body heat.

My dreams were pretty messed up that night.

**A/N: Sorry that I just ended it like that...but I really needed to update. Hope ya'll enjoyed it! Review or Scarlett will kill a romantic moment! Or nature will just be a royal cockblock...whichever I choose! So, I suggest reviewing :) **


	8. Come Home

**A/N: Chapter 8! I am soooo sorry guys D: I have some serious guy trouble and writer's block is a bitch, but that doesn't mean I should've neglected you guys...I am sorry, sincerely. Can you believe Dale died?! Ugh, it's all Carl's fault! Stupid kid... Are you all psyched for the third season?! I've been counting down for this shit! And that's all for this Author's Note! Wow, haven't updated in forever…this is why people should review more…**

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead. I do own Scarlett and the unfortunate events that befall her and the group!**

**Random fun fact of the day: Scarlett is a health freak.**

8. We Cannot Hide, There's Nothing Left

"LIFT YOUR KNEES!"

"I'm sorry I'm not as flexible as you!"

"Ya'll need tuh shut the hell up!"

"Fall in a hole Dixon."

Our little trio was merrily skipping through a nicely mowed field with beautiful wild flowers growing in random places. Of course, that's what I'd like to think. Instead, we were cautiously moving through a field of corpses. What a lovely sight.

"I regret watching all of those horror movies," I sighed, stepping over another body.

"Why?" Carl asked.

"I always laughed when somebody died. I found gory movies funny for some reason. Now look at this. _This_ is not funny."

"Horror movies aren't real Scarlett," Carl said.

"...and what are we surviving through?"

Carl had nothing to say to that, so I added a mental point on to the scoreboard. You see, we're having a little competition to see how many times one of us could leave the other without a retort. Carl was ahead of me by three points.

"Hold up."

I stopped dead in my tracks at the redneck's request. He's a zombie survival expert. Hell, he's a survival expert period. I would like to think of myself as one, but you know, my attention span isn't long enough for that.

Daryl examined the ground, and I tried to see what he was looking at/for, only to come up with nothing.

"Herd came through here," he announced. Oh. Fucking joy.

"Are they close?" Carl asked.

"Should be, so be careful," he said, mostly towards me. I flipped him off when Carl wasn't looking, but of course, he turned away. Asshole.

'I really hate zombies. Little freaks took everything I loved away from me. Burnt down my home town! I don't even know if Wyatt's alive or not...'

I stopped thinking. I can't think about any of that. It's too painful.

The sound of uneven shuffling brought me to my senses. Two Walkers were approaching at a rather...slow...rate. Sighing lightly, I dragged out my bow and nocked an arrow. I pulled back, much to my hand's discontent, and fired. I wasn't aimed directly at the zombie, but as I said before, my aim's off so I had to aim somewhere else and hope the arrow hit its target.

It did, thankfully. I hissed in pain at the burning sensation in my hand. That my friends hurt like a bitch.

"You okay, Scarlett?" Carl asked.

"I'm fine," I breathed. Note to self: next time I decide to shoot a zombie, don't. Just stab the son of a bitch.

Daryl took out the other one with his knife. That's probably what I should have done but I'm not the brightest person when it comes to three second life-or-death decisions.

I retrieved the arrow from the zombie's forehead. I wiped the blood on my jeans and put it back in my quiver. Carl made a sound of disgust at the blood streaks on my pants. I shrugged and continued to follow Daryl.

We walked in silence for the next twenty minutes. I'm surprised Carl and I made it that far away from camp. I stepped over a half-eaten body. That was still alive.

It made a hissing noise and tried to grab me. I brought my foot to its face. I continued stomping on it until it stopped making noises. It would've been faster to stab it with an arrow, but I was in the 'touch-me-and-you-die' mood.

Daryl led the way and I was a few feet behind him. Carl was basically attached to my hip as we exited the field. The redneck led us to the main road, and we set out down it. Looking at the sun, I could tell that it's been about an hour; Daryl said it'd be an hour and a half walk plus the additional time we used to kill off Walkers.

"I think I'm going to die," Carl gasped. I gave him a questioning sideways glance but didn't stop walking since I'd most likely lose Daryl if I paused even for a moment.

"How so Shark-Bait?"

"I don't have as much stamina as you two. I need to take a break," he explained.

"We ain't stoppin'," Daryl cut in.

Glaring briefly at the Dixon, I stopped and crouched down slightly, motioning for Carl to hop on my back. He did, and I had to jog lightly to catch up with Daryl.

We didn't run into any zombies the rest of the way back. We returned to camp somewhat in one piece, and once the RV came into view, Carl jumped off of my back and sprinted to Lori.

"You're welcome," I growled lightly. I carried that kid for half an hour and I didn't get a single thanks.

Glenn jogged lightly towards me. He exclaimed, "You're alive!" and pulled me into a hug. I chuckled lightly and hugged the Korean boy back. He escorted me back to the RV, where Rick and Shane were arguing. Again.

"Ignore them. They've been like that since yesterday," Glenn informed me. I nodded. It wasn't a huge shocker that the two policemen were bickering.

"By the way, there wasn't an intersection," I told him. Glenn looked at me and examined the map that I didn't notice until now. It was sprawled out on a stump, the edges being held down by medium-sized rocks. I stared at the map and something finally clicked.

"Glenn…the map's upside down."

"Seriously?"

"Yes. I ran through that god-forsaken cornfield. I know what I'm talking about here."

The used-to-be pizza delivery boy flipped the map right side up. A look of embarrassment and sheepishness crossed over his face.

"Sorry Scarlett. It seems like you always get sent on suicide missions," Glenn said. I patted his shoulder with my dirt smeared hand.

"S'is all good," I told him.

I left Glenn to set up a new course to the CDC. As I entered the RV, Shane stopped me by grabbing my wrist that Daryl bruised the other day.

"So…about that weaponry. Where exactly is it?" the policeman asked me.

"I don't know exactly where it is. I just know that it's a few towns north of Atlanta," I replied, taking my wrist back from him.

"That place could save us, y'know. With all the weapons and ammunition stored inside. Plus, it's probably fortified to keep others out. Only thing we'd really need is food," Shane said.

"I don't really have a say in our little camp's activities. If we go, then we go. If we don't, well, too bad I guess," I responded. I felt my way up into the RV, where Carol was braiding Sophia's hair. Shane cursed under his breath and stalked off, probably to go bitch to Rick some more.

I sat down in the passenger's seat; kicking my feet up on the dashboard. My legs were burning from the long trek back here. I just sat there and stared at my brown boots. Then there was a knock on my door.

The window was already rolled down, so I leaned over the edge to see Dale.

"Hello, Scarlett," he greeted, "How are you?"

"I've been better. How was camp?"

"They're torn about where to go. Rick wants to go to the CDC; Shane wasn't to go to the weaponry. Nobody is sure about which is safer," Dale explained.

"Quite frankly, I don't care where we go," I shrugged, "I just follow this group like a lost puppy and get sent on little missions that almost always end in me getting killed or eaten."

"You're just as important as anybody else in this group. You pull your own weight, and do most things without question," Dale said. I bit the inside of my cheek. I looked over to the rest of the members of our camp that were actually outside. My eyes immediately found Daryl, who was cleaning off his bolts.

"I think Daryl's gettin' tired of saving me," I sighed. Dale followed my gaze and stopped on the redneck.

"I don't think so," Dale said, "He never complains about you."

"Doesn't mean he doesn't think it," I groaned. I opened the passenger door, and Dale stepped aside so I could climb out. "Well, I'm going to go wash up. See ya around!"

I heard Dale tell me a polite goodbye as I skipped away. I found our camp's "sink" (which consisted of a bucket full of water and a rag) and washed off my hands to the best I could. Soap here was nonexistent, and the water was stagnant and filled with the filth from everyone else who had used it.

The rag, which used to be a bluish-white, was pretty much black and brown now. My nose curled up as I dragged the cloth over the back of my hands. Brown water streaked my hands, but once I dipped them in the water, they were cleaner than before. I wiped my hands on my bare legs, but hissed once my injured palm had pressure applied to it.

As I turned, I ran straight into Daryl.

"We have to stop meeting like this," I said, choking back a cry of surprise.

"Ya talk in yer sleep," he stated. My blank glance obviously told him to continue. "It was all jus' mindless ramblin', but ya said sumthin' 'bout Wyatt."

I searched every corner of my mind about the dreams I had. Either I convinced myself in the morning that I had very _vivid_, for lack of a better word, dreams about Daryl or there was a wall put up so I couldn't remember what exactly happened. Normally, I remember every detail of my dreams.

"And what did I say about Wyatt?" I asked, hoping for an answer that wouldn't cause me to burst into tears.

"Come home."

"Oh," was all I said. My eyes wandered over to the tree line. I stared for so long that the image was becoming double. Blinking away the burning sensation, I nodded to Daryl and hiked back over to the RV.

_Come home_.

**A/N: Shortest chapter, but I was desperately trying to update. Review please. I'll give you a cookie (and cookie is code for another chapter). I'm trying to make Scarlett more mature, since after reading over the first 7 chapters, I realized she's sort of childish. More stuff about Wyatt! Suggestions or comments about her and Wyatt's relationship? It'd be greatly appreciated! **

**Love you guys!**


	9. Skinny Dipping in the Dark

**A/N: Chapter 9! I'm back and ready for more zombie action! I'm really enjoying The Walking Dead marathon and I CAN'T FUCKING WAIT FOR THE SEASON THREE PREMIERE. **

**Disclaimer: Don't own…just Scarlett.**

**Random fun fact: Scarlett contemplates on dying her hair all the time.**

9. I Hate Feeling Like This, I'm so Tired of Trying to Fight This

My face found the couch of the RV in record time. I wish I could just smother myself. Flipping over, I flung one leg over the top so that my booted foot was against the window and the other was scrunched up against my body. I was chewing on my thumbnail, trying to block out all of the memories that had relentlessly attacked the mental wall I put up when this shit when down.

'_Ugh, why do I even bother sometimes?'_ I thought. I rolled over on my side, but I forgot that the couch was pretty damn narrow, so my chest met the floor with an audible _thud_.

"Graceful," Andrea commented. When did she get in here? Oh right, she's been in here.

"Thanks," I groaned out. I pushed myself up with my arms, which thankfully have grown some muscle over the past month or so. My ass hit the couch, and I examined my skin out of pure boredom. My shoulders were burnt to hell; I was cut up, bruised up, scarred up, and just downright disgusting.

My fingers were raking through my red hair which somehow become brighter and more orange-ish because of the damn sun. It was also a lot longer; before the apocalypse, my hair would always ride comfortably at my collarbone. Now, the wavy mess was halfway down my ribcage.

"Are there scissors somewhere around here?" I asked the blonde woman.

"Why?" she questioned.

"I'd rather cut my hair with scissors, not with a knife."

"In the bathroom," Andrea answered, motioning to the small compartment.

I stood and entered the crammed space. There were scissors on the sink, and I took them in hand. I combed out my hair to the best extent with my fingers. Starting with my bangs, I cut them shorter so that they reached my eyebrows. Not bothering with my choppy layers, I started hacking off a good nine inches off. The crimson strands fell to the floor in a heap.

Once I finished, I swept up the locks into a plastic bag with a broom that I found in the supply closet. Andrea examined my work.

"That's surprisingly nicer," she commented.

"This is how I always wore it. Sometimes I straightened it, but the waves looked presentable enough," I said. I threw the bag full of hair into the trash can that people actually used.

Without a word, I hopped out of the RV. My now-short hair made the weather more bearable, thank the lord. I tied it up with the lone hair tie that was on my wrist. Carl and Sophia were playing a game I didn't recognize, Dale was on watch, Glenn was eye-fucking the map, Rick and Shane were arguing (surprise, surprise) and Lori, Jacqui, and Carol were washing clothes. Daryl was most likely hunting and T-Dog was probably getting more firewood.

I joined the other women. I never really had a specific "job" when it came to the chores around camp. I did whatever people told me to. As I approached, Lori perked up.

"Decided to finally join us?" she asked.

"I'm not the best when it comes to washing clothes. I'd be more useful in the 'scavenging for food' department. Get some mushrooms, berries, hell might get some animals," I told her, sitting down and crossing my legs.

"Daryl wouldn't be too happy with you stealing his job," Jacqui told me, scrubbing a shirt on her washboard.

"Pfft, Daryl's never happy," Lori told the black woman. I couldn't help but laugh at her comment, since it was basically true.

"You cut your hair," Carol pointed out, "it's cute!"

Grinning cheekily, I thanked her. For some reason, everyone thought my hair looked better short than long. Maybe it's because I'm a ginger.

I pushed myself up from my spot in the grass. "I'm going to go practice with my bow and stuff. Maybe bathe in the pond in the woods later. See ya!" I jogged off to fetch my bow, which was in the Winnebago, I believe.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry?" Rick asked me as I passed him.

"Target practice, Rosco. I'm not letting this injury get me down; 'sides I need to the practice," I explained quickly, hopping into the RV. My precious weapon was leaning against the back of the passenger's seat, and my quiver was lying right next to it.

I threw the pouch full of arrows over my shoulder and carried my bow. I found my duffle bag and pulled out my notebook. I quickly ripped out a piece of paper and drew multiple rings with a red pen that happened to be lying on the table.

I skipped out of the RV and found the nearest tree. I nocked an arrow on my bow, tossed up the piece of paper, and shot at it. I held back a hiss of pain. My hand didn't hurt as much as it did the first few days, now it was more bearable.

The arrow went almost completely through the notebook paper, but the feathers on the end wouldn't let it go through completely. The arrow hit a tree, and I examined my work.

"Not bad, Scar," I told myself. I nodded in satisfaction before reloading. I pulled back and fired. The arrow hit next to the first one.

Half a dozen arrows later, the paper was shredded to hell. I pulled all of the projectiles out of the bark, and put them back in the quiver.

I looked around camp. Everyone was doing some type of chore. Shrugging, I drudged off into the woods. I found the trail that led to the pond quite easily, and I followed it. Realizing that I didn't bring any towels, I told myself that I'd be fine without them. Besides, I was almost to the pond and it'd be a waste of time to walk back.

Arriving at the pond, I loaded my bow (just in case a Walker decided to show up) and put it close to the edge of the water. I sat down ungracefully and pulled off my boots and socks. I pulled off my tank top and shorts and put them in a neat pile with my boots. I was left standing in a purple sports bra and black boy-shorts panties.

"Eh, fuck it," I decided. Stripping those off too, I dove into the water. The pond wasn't very deep; six feet at most. The water was warmer than I expected; then again, the sun was trained on it all day.

I used my hands to scrub off the dirt and grime that littered my skin. I went under and cleaned my face. God knows that since the apocalypse happened that my poor facial tissue broke out. It wasn't very noticeable, but acne really pissed me off. I had to deal with that shit as a teenager, and I'm sure as hell not dealing with it as an adult.

Resurfacing, I sighed in relief. My mind wandered back to my teenage years. I wasn't very attractive throughout high school. Senior year rolled around and I magically became hot; got my braces off and my pimples cleared out. I wasn't very popular either. Maybe it's because I gave the head cheerleader two black eyes, a split lip, a bald spot in her bleached hair, and knocked out one of her teeth…

"Bitch deserved it," I mumbled.

"The fuck're ya doin'?"

I didn't even bother holding back the scream.

"Jesus! What the fuck are _you_ doing?!" I yelled, flattening the front of my body against the edge of the pond. I didn't care about the algae; I didn't want Daryl to see me naked.

He saw my pile of clothes and looked everywhere else but me. I didn't know what it was about southern boys; they were always polite and nice to women. Unlike the city boys I had dated. They would not stop staring.

"Git yer ass outta there. Jus' killed a geek out here," he told me. I clicked my tongue. Yay, Walkers. Never heard them called geeks though.

"Sunuvabitch," I growled. I didn't have anything to dry off with, and I wasn't about to put dry clothes over my wet skin.

Just as I was about to crawl out and shake off like a dog (yes, I would resort to that), a flannel landed in the dirt right in front of me. I looked up and saw Daryl in a grey tank top and still not looking at me. I grabbed the shirt and quickly clambered out. Drying off my body with his shirt, I put on my clothes in record time. Hell, I don't even think I got dressed that quickly even when I woke up late.

Once fully dressed, I picked up the redneck's discarded, and now soaking, shirt. Daryl finally started looking at me, and I held out his flannel.

"Um, thanks," I told him.

"Keep it. Ain't much use tuh me now," he said.

"Oh. Alright."

"The fuck 'appened to yer hair?" the hunter asked. He reached out and tugged lightly on the choppy and drenched ends.

I gave him a quizzical look. "I cut it. Does it look bad?"

"Looked better longer."

"Are you fucking kidding me? You know what; just don't comment on my hair anymore, mmkay? It'll grow back," I growled, walking around him. Then I remembered my bow. Turning on my heel, I stomped back to the pond, tying the soaking flannel around my waist in the process. I picked up my weapon, and as I went to twirl around, Daryl grabbed me by my triceps.

I struggled, a natural reaction, but it was useless. Daryl was stronger and faster than me. I pushed against his chest, and that got me absolutely nowhere. His grip was too strong. I pushed again, and this time, he let go.

My stupid ass fell straight back into the pond.

I re-emerged and spit out the water that happened to rush into my mouth. I mustered up the most evil-looking glare that I could at the redneck.

"The fuck was that for?!" I demanded, scrambling up the edge. I tried to squeeze out as much water in my clothes and hair that I could, but it was a lost cause.

"I didn' do nuthin'," was his response, "blame that Newton fucker's laws."

My jaw brushed the ground. "You know who Isaac Newton is?" I gaped.

"I may be a hick, but I'm not a dumb fuck."

I trailed behind him. My boots were being annoying as hell, squeaking each time I stepped. My bow was in hand, and my quiver was strapped over my wet back. Water dripped off my body en masse, leaving a nice little track back to our camp.

"What were you doing in the woods?" I asked.

"Huntin'. Got us more squirrel for the road," Daryl answered.

"I wonder why you put up with our group. Especially me. You've saved me…shit how many times? Four?"

The hunter shrugged. "Sumthin' tuh do. I've told ya before, those pricks are useless."

"God have proof of that," I laughed lightly. We were about halfway to camp, and I was still sopping wet. The sun wasn't as powerful through the canopy. There were a few spots where light cut through, but not enough to dry me off.

An idea popped up in my head. I smirked evilly to myself. I jogged past Daryl and stopped right in front of him. He stared at me like I was insane.

"Fuck're ya doing?"

I latched onto him, soaking his shirt. I knew he was confused, since he didn't move at all. Once I thought he was thoroughly drenched like I was, I released him.

"Payback's a bitch," I winked.

Before Daryl could kill me, I took off running towards camp.

**A/N: Bullshit endings for the win! The new Walking Dead episode will be on in less than five hours! Well for me anyway :D I. Can't. Wait. Review please! I love you all, my readers! **

**Seriously though, review. I know people read this. So get to typing something in that lovely box below~ **

**Now.**


	10. Sanctuary

**A/N: Damn, I'm on a roll. For no reason since you people DON'T REVIEW. However, I love you all anyway! Guess what?! This chapter actually follows the storyline! It's the end of the world! No, not really. But if it takes a zombie apocalypse to find me a sexy redneck, so be it.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize! Just my dear ginger Scarlett!**

**Random fun fact: Scarlett had braces for five years.**

10. I've Been Away for a Long Time, Such a Long Time That I Miss You There

"What the hell happened to you?" Glenn asked as I approached the RV.

"Daryl oh so kindly threw me into the fucking pond," I growled.

"Are you alright?" the Korean questioned.

"I'm all rainbows and sunshine over here," I answered, roughly sitting into a foldable chair. I was still soaked to the bone, and my hair started to curl up like it always did when it was wet.

"I'll go get you a towel," he said. Glenn disappeared into the RV, and then reappeared with a large green towel in hand. He tossed it to me, and I caught it when it was in reach.

"Thank you," I told him. I ran the towel over my legs and tossed my boots to the side. My arms were next to be dried off, and the feeling of being dry was magical.

"So…why did Daryl toss you into the pond?"

"Because Glenn, Daryl is a dick," I responded sweetly.

"I can imagine him throwing me into a pond for no reason, but there had to be a reason with you, Scarlett," Glenn said. I rubbed my hair between the edges of the folded-up towel. I proceeded to wrap the red locks up into it.

"Rednecks are unpredictable as hell as well as annoying. I majored in freaking _psychology_, you'd expect me to be able to read people like an open book but with him, all of that goes out the fucking window. It drives me off the edge of insanity!" I all but shouted.

"It's okay, Scarlett. Some people are just like that. C'mon, we need to pack up. We're off to the CDC," Glenn informed me.

Well, I didn't really need to pack up. All of my shit was in the Winnebago. My clothes (which consisted of like…six outfits and my boots) were all shoved in my backpack. I slept in the RV; the top bunk was mine since nobody really wanted it. I had a sleazy blanket and the hardest pillow I have ever felt. It was better than the ground though.

But if I had to choose really anything to sleep on, it'd be Daryl's lap. My palm met my forehead in record time. I did _not_ just think that.

"Gun. Mouth. Now," I muttered.

"Something wrong, Scarlett?"

I jumped at the sound of Dale's voice. My hand was over my beating heart, and it felt like Thumper was kicking the shit out of it.

"Christ, don't do that," I breathed.

"Couldn't help but notice that you were a bit…depressed today," the older man commented. I shook my head.

"Not depressed. More like…aggravated."

"I'm going to take a guess and say it's over a certain Dixon boy?"

"I have not a clue what you're talking about," I replied in a sing-song voice. All Dale did was chuckle.

"You be careful, alright?"

"Always am!"

I stood from my seat, and Dale took my chair, folding it up. I watched the rest of the camp pack up everything, and loaded it into vehicles. According to the map, the CDC was a lot closer than we expected. It wouldn't be that long of a drive, if everything went smoothly.

Within ten minutes, I was being called into the RV. Glenn, Jacqui, and Dale were my other compadres, with Dale driving. We were in the lead, everyone else following us.

"Do you really think the CDC will have all the answers?" I asked, looking out the window. I was at the table, Jacqui sitting across from me.

"I hope so, honey," Jacqui answered.

"Speaking of the CDC, we're here," Dale announced. He pulled over, parking next to the curb. I was hesitant on leaving the RV. I knew about an incident with a CDC and it blowing up since a disease got out. Everything within a two mile blast radius was razed to the ground.

Glenn was the first brave soul out. He opened the door, shotgun in hand, and jumped out on the sidewalk. Jacqui was after him, weaponless. Dale motioned me to go next, so I did. My bow was loaded and my quiver was strapped on my back with about six or so arrows. Glenn held out his arm, signaling us to stay back.

The first thing that hit me was the small. I immediately wanted to throw up everything I have eaten in the past three years. I put my hand over my nose and mouth, in an attempt to filter out the smell. My god, the amount of flies was fucking unbelievable.

As the rest of the group caught up with us, they started to cough as well. Rick and Shane held brave faces as they led the way to the doors of the CDC.

"Alright everybody. Keep moving. Go on," Shane encouraged in a whisper, "Stay quiet. Let's go."

The smell was ridiculous. As was the body count. I stayed in the back with Dale, keeping a watchful eye on any movement that wasn't us.

Rick passed the checkpoint, and the smell just continuously got worse. "Keep moving. Stay together," our leader said, "Keep moving. Come on!"

Shane shushed us, trying to keep the sounds we make to a minimum. I stepped over a body and was hit in the face with a swarm of flies. I used the curve of my bow to knock them away, and Daryl pushed me ahead.

I heard Glenn mutter out an "Oh god."

"We can do this," I whispered, mainly to myself. Shane and Rick shushed me.

"Keep it together! Come on!" Rick told the group. He made it to the door, and fiddled with a lock.

"Nothing?" Shane asked. He then proceeded to try to lift up the door. After that brilliant plan failed, Shane started to pound on it.

"There's nobody here," T-Dog said.

"Then why are these shutters down?" Rick pointed out.

"Walkers!"

Thank you for that lovely news Daryl. They all started cocking their guns, and either Carl or Sophia whimpered. A Walker that used to be an army man started to approach, but met its quick end as Daryl shot it straight in the forehead.

"You led us into a graveyard!" the redneck shouted, marching up to Rick.

"He made a call," Dale reasoned.

"It was the wrong damn call!" Daryl yelled back.

"Calm the fuck down!" I told him, only to get glared at by him and the mothers.

Shane pushed Daryl back. "Just shut up! You hear me? Shut up. Shut up!" the policeman ordered, then turned to me, "You too! Keep your damn mouth shut!"

"Rick, this is a dead end," he proceeded to tell his friend.

"Where are we going to go?" Carol cried, holding onto her daughter.

"She's right, we can't be here, this close to the city after dark," Lori panicked.

"Fort Benning, Rick—still an option," Shane tossed out.

"On what?" Andrea growled, "No food, no fuel. That's a hundred miles."

"One hundred twenty-five, I checked the map," Glenn corrected the blonde.

"Forget Fort Benning," Lori cut in, "We need answers tonight, now."

"Well, think of something," Rick said, voice strained.

Everyone then started voices their opinions of "Let's get out of here" and pressuring poor Rosco beyond belief.

"Everybody!" I shouted, not caring that Walkers could possibly hear me, "Just shut the hell up! He's doing his damned best! I don't see any of you trying to come up with a plan!"

Shane shot me a glare before announcing, "Alright, back to the cars. Let's go. Move!"

My eyes landed on Rick, who was staring at an outside camera. We saw the same thing—the device moved.

"The camera—it moved," Rick announced.

"It did, I saw it too!" I added on.

"You imagined it," Dale said.

"No, it moved!" I argued.

Shane started arguing with Rick, saying this place was dead. I saw it move, somebody was controlling it. I walked straight past Shane, who was pulling his friend towards the vehicles, and stared straight into the eye of the camera.

"Please, let us in!" I begged. I wasn't faking the kicked puppy look on my face; I was actually feeling it.

Rick joined me, and started banging on the door. His wife was trying to convince him that nobody was there.

"I know you're in there. I know you can hear me," he began, "Please, we're desperate! Please help us, we have women" –he motioned to me—"children! No food, hardly any gas left. We have nowhere else to go. If you don't let us in, you're killing us!"

Our leader started to pound on the door again. I looked into the camera again.

"Please, I'm begging you!" I tried, "We need your help! Please!"

Shane pushed Rick back, and Daryl started to drag me along too. I fought back. There was somebody in there. Everyone was shouting, it was too much.

"You're killing us! You're killing us!" Rick shouted over everybody.

"GODDAMN IT FUCKING HELP US PLEASE!" I shouted.

Daryl was still pulling me back when the door opened, and a bright light consumed us all. It was like Heaven's Gates had opened, allowing us a sanctuary. When the lights shut off, that's when we moved.

"Daryl, cover the back," Shane ordered.

"Hello?" Rick called, his voice echoing, "Hello?"

"Close those doors, watch for Walkers," Shane commanded.

"Hello?" Rick tried again, only a little louder. That's when we heard the gun cock. All weapons were raised to the origin of the noise. A man was holding on to a really big gun.

"Anybody infected?" he demanded.

"One of our group was," Rick answered, "He didn't make it."

Rick, why in the hell would you tell him that?

"Why are you here? What do you want?" the man asked, not pausing between questions.

"A chance," our leader answered. It was the most honest answer I have ever heard in my life.

"That's asking an awful lot these days," the man commented, coming closer to us, but not lowering his weapon. My bow was pulled back and an arrow was ready to let loose at his chest in case he did fire.

"I know."

"You opened the doors," I pointed out, slowly letting the string rest at its original position, "You must have considered helping us, otherwise you would've left them shut."

The man didn't respond; instead he examined our group. "You all submit to a blood test. That's the price of admission."

"We can do that," Rick agreed.

"You got stuff to bring in, you do it now. Once this door closes, it stays closed," our savior told us. Most of us ran out to our vehicles, grabbing the necessities and rushed back inside in record time. T-Dog and Dale closed the glass doors while the man pressed some numbers on a machine.

"Vi, seal the main entrance. Kill the power up here," he told the machine. The steel door closed, and the lights went out.

Rick walked up to him. "Rick Grimes," he introduced.

"Dr. Edwin Jenner," the man replied.

We were safe.

For now.

**A/N: Wow, two in one day! I deserve a reward *cough* REVIEWS *cough* So, how do you like my following the storyline now? Yes, TZSG will sometimes stray off from the actual TWD storyline, but that's how it's intended to be. IN LESS THAN TWO HOURS I WILL BE WATCHING THE SEASON THREE PREMIERE FUCK YEAH! :D **

**As always, review please~**


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